


What's Past is Prologue

by Willowbrooke



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bed & Breakfast, Family Secrets, M/M, Past and Present, Slow Burn, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:53:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23320519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowbrooke/pseuds/Willowbrooke
Summary: Upon their grandfather's death, Tim and his sister, Pauline, inherit their grandparents’ beloved old mansion in Bar Harbor, Maine.  Unhappy in his high pressure job in New York City, and with the support of Pauline and the rest of his family, Tim makes the decision to move to Bar Harbor and convert the house into a bed and breakfast.   A couple of years in, the B&B has become very successful, and he’s happily settled into a slower pace of life.  But one email and a secret from the past threaten his new-found peace, and in the most unexpected ways, turn his world upside down.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 353
Kudos: 269





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I _swore_ I wasn't going to start posting this until I was mostly finished writing it. But then the world as we know it 'turned upside down,' and I decided, what the hell? I'm already stressed, so I might as well stress about posting a WIP as well, especially when I'm the world's slowest writer. But it just felt like the right time to get this out there, so here it is. 
> 
> The first chapter is just a bit of a tease - some artwork I put together for this story and an email that starts the ball rolling. I will post the second chapter in a few days. After that, I will try to post fairly regularly, but no promises as we get further into the story.
> 
> The title comes from Shakespeare's _The Tempest,_ and the idea for the story came from some personal family history, as well as a bit of influence from the movie _Possession._
> 
> By the time we reach the end of this story, you may get tired of hearing me sing the praises of KendylGirl and her excellent beta skills, but she really is the best! And I would be totally remiss if I didn't thank the amazing onlyastoryteller for her patience in explaining to me how to post graphics here, which, seriously, is _way_ more complicated than it should be. Thank you...it worked! 😍
> 
> I guess that's it. Other than to say that I hope you all enjoy, and I thank you for reading! All comments are welcome and very much appreciated!

_Dear Mr. Chalamet,_

_I was happy to discover your bed and breakfast website this morning. It’s been years since I’ve been to Bar Harbor, but as a child, I used to spend time there every summer, staying with my aunt and uncle. Your house was only a couple of blocks from their place, and I remember it well, very grand and imposing. I was even inside it a couple of times, though I have only vague memories of the interior._

_When I read the story you posted on your web page about the history of the house, it confirmed for me that you are indeed the original owner’s grandson. I've recently discovered some information related to your grandfather that I think will be of interest to you. As I plan to spend a couple of weeks in Bar Harbor in the next month or so doing research for a new book, perhaps we can find a time to meet, and I could share that information with you? It might even figure into my book if you would be amenable._

_The pictures you’ve posted of the André Inn make it obvious that you've put a great deal of thought and effort into restoring the place to its original splendor. It's very impressive. I realize that this is a long shot, given how busy fall is there and the many glowing reviews your place gets on Tripadvisor, but might there be a time that you could accommodate me for two or three weeks? I’d be happy to pay in full up front, and I'm not at all fussy about room size. I can share a bathroom or even change rooms if necessary; however, being 6'5", I would need a double bed at minimum. If that’s not possible, I’d appreciate some recommendations for other lodging._

_I look forward to hearing from you._

_Kind regards,_

_Armie Hammer_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Setting the stage...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to start with a big _thank you_ to everyone who read, kudo'd or commented on the first chapter. All of the support is very much appreciated. This chapter is also somewhat short, but gives some needed background for the story to make sense.
> 
> Question: How lucky am I to have KendylGirl as my beta? Answer: Very! ❤️ 
> 
> Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

Tim rereads the email a couple of times, his curiosity piqued. The guy’s name is vaguely familiar, but he’s not sure why. And what information could he have about Tim’s grandfather if he’d only been here as a kid? Besides, it’s not like André Chalamet had lived a particularly complicated or mysterious life. 

Tim's paternal grandparents, Paulette and André, were French Canadian by birth, and they had moved to Bar Harbor from New Brunswick as newlyweds in the early 1950's. At that time, this massive old Victorian house had been owned by a well-to-do elderly woman named Florence Daniels, who had recently lost her husband.

She'd hired André to do maintenance and repair work on the house, and subsequently hired Paulette to cook and clean. The three of them had developed a solid friendship, and since Mrs. Daniels was living on her own in this huge place, she had offered Tim’s grandparents free lodging here.

That arrangement had lasted for a couple of years before the woman had become seriously ill. Paulette and André cared for her throughout that time, and when she eventually passed, having no other close family, she left this house to them.

André had gone on to make a name for himself in the area as a skilled furniture and cabinet maker, while his grandmother, an accomplished artist, had taken advantage of the incredible scenery on the island and had become quite well known for her landscape paintings.

They'd raised Tim’s dad, Marc, and his aunt, Lizbeth, in this house, and they had lived happily together here for over 50 years. As kids, Tim and his sister, Pauline, had loved coming here to visit. The house had been endlessly fascinating to them both, and they had spent many happy hours exploring all the nooks and crannies, as well as playing hide and seek for hours in the vastness of this place with some of the neighborhood kids.

They had lost his grandmother first, almost eight years ago now. His grandfather had followed four years later. Though Tim had loved his grandmother dearly, the loss of his grandfather had hit him particularly hard, as the two of them had been very close. When André died, he left this house to Tim and Pauline, his only grandchildren. 

They found out after the fact that André had discussed this idea a few years before his death with Tim’s parents and aunt and uncle, and they had all supported the decision. It had come as a complete surprise to the two of them, but maybe it shouldn’t have. André knew how much they both loved the house. But what would a couple of city kids do with a house in Bar Harbor, Maine? Logically, selling it made the most sense. Pauline was living in Paris now, and he was settled in New York City, and the money would have given them both some flexibility in their lives. 

Their parents had encouraged them to take some time and not rush into any decisions, suggesting that maybe a family get-together here might give them some perspective and an opportunity to hash it out together. 

And so, shortly after the house had been officially transferred to the two of them, he, Pauline, their parents, and aunt and uncle, had gathered here for a week of family time. 

The idea of turning this house into a bed and breakfast had been bubbling around in Tim’s head from the moment he'd heard about the inheritance, and once they were all together here, he began to seriously consider it. Though he’d always loved the place, it wasn’t until he’d gotten older that he was able to see and appreciate its uniqueness and character. And especially now, as a trained architect, he could see the house’s suitability and potential as a B&B, and he had a pretty solid understanding of what it would take to make that happen.

Anyone buying this place would most likely do the same thing with it, as very few people could afford to own it as a home these days. He rationalized that if it was going to change anyway, someone who loved it and had strong ties to it should be the one making the decisions on how it would be done. 

Could he do it? Yeah, he was certainly capable of it, but did he _really_ want to? And how would Pauline and the rest of the family react? Obviously, it wasn’t just his decision to make, so on their second evening together here, he broached the subject, explaining his thoughts and ideas, and asking for honest input. 

Pauline had been immediately enthusiastic, expressing how thrilled she would be if the house stayed in the family. At the same time, she made clear that, although she was fine with not selling and would happily help out from time to time, her life was elsewhere, and if Timmy wanted to do this, it would be his baby. She had told him that she would support whatever decision he made. 

His parents, as well as Aunt Lizbeth and Uncle James, had also been supportive. As a group, they had discussed pros and cons. Everyone wanted him to be sure that he understood what a huge commitment he was making. In the end, he had gone with his gut, and his gut had said to do it. He’d felt as though his grandfather was letting him know that this is where he belonged for now.

So, he had quit his job in New York, taken out a loan, and slowly worked through major renovations and upgrades to the house’s exterior and infrastructure, and extensive remodeling of the interior to convert it into a bed and breakfast.

It had been a long, frustrating process, and more than once, he had been tempted to give it up. It had taken well over a year before he even reached a point where he could begin renting out a few of the rooms, while continuing to work on the rest during the slow months in the winter. But two years further down the road, the place was beginning to show a decent profit, and he couldn't deny that he genuinely loved what he was doing. There was still work to be done, but the worst was behind him, and he was glad he had persevered. 

Shortly after moving here, he had met, and later hired, a local woman, Karen Higgins, who was nothing short of a genius in the kitchen. They had bonded immediately, and though she tended to mother him a bit, she had quickly become a trusted friend and someone he could always count on to give him thoughtful advice and honest feedback. She had never shied away from telling him when she thought he was headed in a wrong direction.

He had happily delegated to her the task of hiring a part-time person to clean rooms and serve breakfast as she knew so many people in town, and for the last year, that job had been conveniently filled by Karen’s daughter, Rachel.

Rachel had only been a junior in high school when Tim had first moved here, but she had always seemed to enjoy helping her mom out in the kitchen during the summer and on weekends, and she clearly loved interacting with the guests. She was now nineteen, and with higher education options basically non-existent on the island and finances tight for them, she was happy to be employed here while taking a few online college classes.

Tim was more than satisfied with this current arrangement. There was no doubt that Karen’s culinary skills, as well as Rachel’s bubbly personality and easy rapport with the guests, had been an integral part of the success of this place. So for as long as it lasted, he would count himself lucky to have their friendship, help, and support.

He absentmindedly drums his fingers on the desk, debating how to respond to this man. He doesn't even have to look at his reservations listing to know that he is tightly enough booked that he can't manage two weeks, let alone three, even if the man is willing to move from room to room. But there's _something_ about this person and his email that intrigues him, and it isn't just the mention of his grandfather. He has no clue why, but he wants to meet this guy. An idea suddenly pops into his head and he smiles. He hits 'reply' and begins typing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim prepares for Armie's arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but from here on, I promise longer chapters with lots more going on! Thanks for hanging in there! 
> 
> And thanks to KendylGirl for her eagle eye!

_Dear Mr. Hammer,_

_Thank you for considering The André Inn for your stay in Bar Harbor. Unfortunately, with the exception of an odd night or two, we are fully booked for the next couple of months. However, in an effort to accommodate you, I do have an option I can offer._

_There is a room at the top of the house that I'm planning to renovate this winter. It's definitely in need of an update, so I have chosen not to rent it out until it's been refurbished. But if you don't mind a bit of dated decor, it's a nice sized room with a double bed, a private balcony, and a new en suite bath. Since you are committing to at least two weeks, I can let you have it for $65 a night with breakfast, of course, included. It would be available for whatever time period you would like. I should mention, however, that given the comment about your height, you may have to duck in a couple of places in the room._ 😊 

_I'm curious about whatever it is you have to share about my grandfather. Your name is vaguely familiar, and I wonder if, by chance, we might have met at some point when we were kids as I was often here in the summer. Especially as you mentioned being in this house._

_Anyway, please let me know if you have any interest in my offer. If not, I will be happy to help you find alternative lodging._

_Sincerely,_

_Timothée Chalamet_

The response is waiting for him when he checks his email an hour later, and his heart skips a beat. He has no idea why this seems significant, but it definitely does. Maybe it's just something as simple as the fact that they appear to have a bit of shared history, but whatever it is, the feeling of connection is strong, and he knows he will be very disappointed if the man turns down his offer. He takes a breath, steeling himself for disappointment, as he clicks on the email.

_Dear Mr. Chalamet,_

_Yes, I am most definitely interested! I honestly didn't think you would be able to offer me anything, much less at such a reasonable rate, so I'm very grateful._

_Having lived many years as the tallest person in the room, I'm very skilled at ducking and bending over. And given the number of times that I've failed to do so, my head is pretty much an anvil at this point._

_And yes, I believe we did meet as kids. We can compare notes once I’m there._

_So, looking at dates, would it work for me to arrive on the afternoon of Sept. 8th, a week from Saturday? If not, let me know what time might be better._

_Best,_

_Armie H._

He lets out a relieved sigh as a smile spreads across his face. He tries to tell himself that he’s just happy to have the unexpected extra money, but he’s never been one for self-deception, and he knows it’s definitely more than that. It seems that they _had_ met as kids, so maybe that’s why he feels this odd connection to the guy. He shakes his head in frustration. Well, there’s no point in dwelling on it now. He’d have answers soon enough, so he tries to focus on the practical details. 

He shoots off a quick email letting Armie know that the 8th will be fine, and that he’s looking forward to having him here. Simple and professional, right? Next, his thoughts turn to the room. He’d been in it fairly recently, as he’d been sorting out details with the contractor who was doing the renovation work for him, but he knows it will need some attention before anyone can stay there. He grabs the key from the drawer beside his computer and heads upstairs. 

He takes pictures and makes notes as he looks around. It’s fine, but there are definitely a couple of things he can do to make it more comfortable. He tries out the bed, and as he heads back downstairs, he scrolls through his contacts and places a call. 

*********

The days pass fairly quickly as they are fully booked, and he’s also been focused on getting the third floor room ready for Armie. When Friday rolls around, he sits down with Karen for their weekly meeting. He generally leaves everything food-related up to her, but she likes getting his input, so he sometimes offers suggestions. And because any little thing seems to bring Armie to mind these days, their discussion has him randomly wondering what Armie likes for breakfast.

The last few days, he’s frequently noticed Karen eyeing him with a concerned look on her face. So when they finish their meeting, he asks pointedly, “You’ve been giving me funny looks lately. Have I done something to upset you? Is everything okay?”

She startles and then smiles. “First of all, you could never do anything to upset me, and everything’s fine. I was actually going to ask you the same thing. You’ve seemed distracted this week, and I've been wondering if something was worrying you.”

He smiles in relief. “Okay, good. I’m glad you’re okay. And, I’m fine too.” He tells her about Armie’s upcoming visit, briefly mentioning his comment about Tim’s grandfather. “I guess I’ve just been preoccupied and busy trying to get that room ready.” He was not inclined to share his irrational excitement about meeting Armie.

Besides, the way he’s built it up in his mind, he’s pretty much guaranteed to be disappointed when he actually meets the guy. He’ll probably tell Tim something he already knew about his grandfather, and they’ll have nothing more to discuss. So why does it feel like his whole world is about to get turned upside down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for our boys to meet next time! 😊


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie finally arrives at the André Inn, and Tim has an 'interesting' experience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone is staying safe and well!
> 
> And...we're finally getting to the good stuff! Thank you all for the support and for hanging in to this point. Lots more to come and I hope you will enjoy.
> 
> KendylGirl has many talents, (cue Timmy saying, "What the hell does _that_ mean?" ) and her beta skills are definitely one of them. Thank you! ❤️

Tim's heart leaps into his throat. Muscles tense as his body reacts instinctively to this unexpected stimulation. Warm breath tickles his ear. Soft kisses, licks, gentle bites...moving lower. Whispered endearments. Skilled hands working their way up and down his body, caressing, teasing. 

A mouth closes around a nipple, and waves of arousal course through him. He thrusts his hips up, chasing the contact, needing more, desperate for it. Low moans slowly filter through the confused haze he is in, but he has no idea if the sounds are coming from him or the person offering him such intense pleasures.

He’s aware on a gut level of a strong connection to this person. It’s a bond that is undeniable and organic...soul-deep. He knows this individual as well as he knows himself. But his brain is fuzzy, and he can’t think clearly.

He wants to surrender, to give himself over completely to this extraordinary sensual onslaught, but a desperate need to know who this person is intrudes. His head feels heavy as he raises it from the pillow, and in the dim light of the room he sees only a vague outline of a figure.

Struggling to focus, he speaks, or at least he thinks he does, as he blindly reaches out. “Wait. Please. Stop...stop. Who are you? I need to see you. Please.”

A laugh echoes from the walls around him, and the head that had been bowed in worshipful purpose lifts just long enough for him to catch a glimpse of eyes that sparkle with affectionate amusement, and a smile that wraps itself around his heart. His tension eases. Yes...this feels right.

But things are still distorted and the picture incomplete. Cursing the lack of light, he struggles to make sense of what little he can see. The shadowy face is familiar, but not, and before he has a chance to study it further, the head lowers again.

He feels the words as much as hears them, as they are spoken into his skin. “You know who I am.” Tender kisses graze his stomach. “I am the one for you, just as you are the one for me.” Hands solidly grip his waist as another kiss is lovingly bestowed on his right hip. “We are two halves of one soul.”

One more kiss, lower...now only a mere breath away from his aching, needy cock, and in that moment, awareness dawns. _Of course! How could he not have known?_ A smile spreads across his face as he finally relaxes and allows himself to abandon his concerns and fully embrace the experience. He closes his eyes, arousal and anticipation now the overriding sensations, and just as a hungry mouth takes him in...he wakes. Sweating, breath ragged, and on the fucking edge.

 _Fuck...no! No!_ He squeezes his eyes shut again, desperate to recapture that intimate connection and those intense feelings, but to no avail. Frustrated and left hanging, he wraps a hand around his erection, needing only a few quick strokes to find his release. He comes hard, knowing with certainty that the man in his dream is the same man who will walk through the front door of the André Inn later that day. 

****

*****

Tim had deliberately scheduled a couple of things he was looking forward to, just to fill up the day. He met with the new owners of a neighboring property about renovation possibilities, and it took up most of the morning. He had assumed beforehand that they were just looking for his input, but he was surprised to discover that they were actually approaching him about doing the design work for the project. He was definitely interested. He followed that meeting with a catch-up lunch with his good friend and fellow B&B owner, Laura Davies.

But even those distractions couldn’t keep him from anticipating Armie’s arrival. The aftereffects of that extraordinary dream lingered, and they only increased his anxiety about meeting this man. Or meeting him again? Because at this point, it seemed almost certain that they had connected before. Most likely, they met as children, but the connection feels so much deeper than that. 

Though he had yet to experience true love, he had always believed in it, and he was maybe even willing to buy into the concepts of soulmates, or destiny, or past life connections, or any number of other ideas about karmic relationships. He’d just never had a reason to give any of it much thought...until now.

Back from lunch, he sits down at his computer, and even though he’s a bit embarrassed to be doing it, he begins searching on terms like ‘soulmates,’ ‘connection to strangers,’ and a new term he’s just discovered in his first couple of links, ‘twin flames.’ For each of those topics, there are dozens of theories and explanations, and it doesn’t take long for him to realize that until he actually meets this guy, trying to place a label on this odd feeling of connection, or trying to define it in any way, is impossible, so he gives it up. 

He manages to get some work done over the next couple of hours, but he’s struggling to concentrate, glancing at the clock every few minutes. The new guests for the day have all checked in, with the exception of one late arrival, and...Armie.

When he hears the front door open, his heart starts pounding. He looks up, watching as the man tugs his wheeled bag over the threshold before closing the door behind him. Tim is still partially hidden behind the front desk, so he has a few seconds to study him. 

The guy is, indeed, very tall. He looks to be a bit older than Tim...dark blond hair, dressed in form fitting blue jeans and a black and white bulky sweater that stretches taut over well-developed biceps. Armie glances around the foyer, eventually focusing his gaze on the front desk, allowing Tim his first good look at the man’s face, and _Jesus,_ he is drop dead gorgeous...fucking Disney prince material. Perfectly symmetrical features and bone structure, and a scruff of facial hair that sets it all off to perfection. But as mesmerizing as his appearance is, what hits him the hardest in those first seconds is not exactly recognition, but an undeniable sense of familiarity. He _knows_ this man.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he stands and walks around the desk. He’s done this hundreds of times. This should be no different. He pastes a smile on his face as Armie’s gaze follows him, and they finally make direct eye contact. He is literally stopped dead in his tracks by the startling blue eyes that connect with his, and he’s overcome by that same feeling of a soul-deep connection he had felt so clearly in his dream.

An eternity passes as he stands there, dazed and dumbfounded, with what must surely be a stunned expression on his face. _Christ, get a fucking grip._ He mentally shakes himself, refocusing, and he concentrates on greeting this guy in as normal a way as possible, making him feel welcome.

As he’s about to speak, he realizes that Armie is also staring at him with a look of surprised bewilderment. _Is it possible he feels it too?_ Before he can sort out an answer to that question, the look has disappeared from Armie’s face, replaced with an easy smile that transports Tim right back to his dream. Though the face in his dream had been indistinct, the smile had been clear, and _this_ is that smile. Armie acknowledges him with a lift of his chin. “Hey.” 

He somehow manages to move forward again and to get the standard words out, though they are a bit more breathless than usual. He reaches out to shake hands, hoping his sweaty palm isn’t too noticeable. “Hey. Welcome to the André Inn."

The vision before him extends his hand in return, broadening that dazzling smile. “Thanks...Mr. Chalamet?”

His hand is as large as the rest of him, his grip firm. Tim instantly recalls the intense feeling of those hands gripping and caressing other parts of his body in his dream. ”Yeah, that's me. And it's Timmy, or Tim. Whatever." _Fuck, could he sound any more like a moron?_

Armie chuckles. "Well, Timmy, or Tim, it’s nice to meet you. I'm Armie, but I'm sure you already figured that out. I really appreciate you making the effort to accommodate me."

Mindless banter. Yeah, he can do that. "Hey, no problem. Happy to have you. And thanks for being understanding about the room."

They seem to realize simultaneously that they are still holding hands, and looking slightly embarrassed, Armie lets go at the same time Tim does. Clearly, Tim is not the only one who is off-balance here. Armie breaks eye contact, turning to adjust the strap of the laptop bag hung over his shoulder. "Well, beggars can't be choosers, and my needs are pretty simple."

When he turns back, the dazzling smile has returned, and Tim finds himself grinning back. "Glad to hear it, but if anything is an issue, please don't hesitate to let me know." Thank God for routine. He gestures toward the front desk. "So, how about we get you checked in. I assume you have a car?”

“Yes. I parked in one of the spots along the fence, but just let me know where you want me.”

“No, that’s perfect. Public parking is at a premium in town, so we’re really fortunate to have enough space onsite to accommodate our guests. There are no set spaces, but I’ll need your car make and model and the license plate number. We’re fairly close to downtown here, and even though it’s clearly posted, there are still people who try to get away with parking in our spots, so I do my best to monitor it.” He hands Armie the form to provide the requested info.

Armie nods. “Makes sense.” When he’s completed the form, he reaches into a pocket to pull out his wallet. “As I said, I’m happy to pay in full up front.” He locates his credit card and hands it to Tim.

“Nah, man, that’s not necessary, especially since you’re not sure how long you’ll be staying. How about if I put the first week on the card today, and we’ll go from there?”

“Sure, that’s fine, if that works for you.”

“It does.” Tim turns away, pulling out his phone and attaching the Square to handle the payment. He uses the time it takes to process to regroup and catch his breath, trying to stay focused on the routine. 

“Okay,” he says as the payment completes and he hands the phone to Armie for a signature. “Sorry about having to sign on my phone. I do so few in person payments that it doesn’t make sense to have a machine.”

“No problem, though I always wonder how these chicken scratches could ever even come close to resembling a real signature.”

Tim laughs. “I know, right? So how do you want your receipt?”

“Email’s fine. Do you need it again?”

“If you wouldn’t mind?”

Armie gives him the address, and Tim completes the transaction. “Great, thanks. And finally, if I could just see a photo ID.”

“Sure.” Armie digs out his driver’s license as he puts his credit card back in his wallet. Since most guests pay online, Tim rarely has a need to examine IDs, but he wants this to feel official, and he won’t deny that the ulterior motive is to learn a little more about this guy.

He notes immediately that it’s a Massachusetts license, with a Boston address. Armie’s birthday is in August, and he’s about four years older than Tim. He glances quickly at the other details before handing it back. “So, it’s officially 6’ 5”, huh?”

Armie laughs. “Yeah, and that’s probably in stocking feet.”

Tim laughs too as he opens the drawer to grab the room key. “Well at least you’ve been warned about the possibility of head injury in this room.”

When he looks back up, he sees Armie looking around the main foyer where they are standing. He waits a beat, giving the other man a chance to take in the full view. "So, does any of this look familiar?"

Armie looks at him and smiles. "Actually, it does. I definitely remember this staircase. It's incredible."

Tim glances at the impressive oak staircase that dominates the foyer. It features staggered landings, raised panel balustrades, wainscoting, and a beautifully carved newel post, angled to accent the rounded edges of the bottom two steps. "Yeah, I really love the unique architectural details. It's definitely one of the house's best features."

Armie nods agreement as he continues to look around. "And for some reason, I remember this painting." He walks over to stand in front of Tim's grandmother's painting of the sunrise from Cadillac Mountain. Tim smiles warmly as he follows.

"From what I understand, my grandmother turned down many generous offers from people wanting to buy this particular painting of hers."

"Wait. Your grandmother painted this?"

"She did, yeah. Back in the day, she was quite well known for her landscapes. There are a few other paintings of hers around the house, and many more that she sold, but she always said she couldn't bear to part with this one, because the location had sentimental value." He smiles. "Apparently, it's where she first told my grandfather that she was pregnant with my father. It's hung in this exact spot for as long as I can remember."

“That’s a great story.” Armie goes quiet as he studies the painting, and Tim can't help but wonder what he's thinking. The other man finally sighs and steps back. "It's beautiful," is all he says.

Tim points out the sitting room and the breakfast room. "Breakfast is from 8:00 to 9:00. The menu varies every day, but there's always a hot, cooked breakfast, and lighter options on the sideboard. And there are always freshly baked snacks and a variety of drinks out in the afternoons."

As he turns towards the stairs, he looks back. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No thanks, I’m good. I’ve got a couple other things in the car, but I’ll bring them in later.”

When they reach the third floor, Tim gestures to his left. "There are three rooms that way, and your room is here to the right. As he unlocks the door he adds, "You've got a nice little balcony, and if you look to the left from it, you can see the bay between the houses across the street. I put a chair out there for you."

As they step inside, he flicks on the ceiling light, even though the sun is shining through the window. He looks around the room, trying to see it from a first time perspective. It's a spacious room, with a large dormer window in the wall straight ahead and a half glazed door leading out to the small balcony in the wall to the left. There are two doors in the wall to the right. The wallpaper is old and peeling in places, and the furniture and decor are clearly in need of an update. The brand new king bed to their left sticks out like a sore thumb.

Tim gestures and moves to their right, opening the first door and flicking on the light in the en suite. "It was cheaper to do all the bathrooms at the same time, so this, at least, is new. Hopefully, the oversized shower will make up for the tired decor of the room. And that’s a whirlpool tub."

"Nice." Armie smiles and nods before turning back, his eyes landing on the bed. "I thought you said this room had a double bed."

Tim internally cringes. He doesn't want this to be a big thing. "Yeah, well, the plan has always been for this to be my high-end two room suite. There's a sitting room with a fireplace through that door there which isn't really usable right now. Since I'm renovating the rooms this winter, and since you're going to be here for an extended stay, I decided that there was no reason not to get the bed now."

Armie walks over and sits on the bed, clearly pleased. "Wow. Well, all I can say is, thank you. I feel like I should be paying more than what you're asking. I mean, seriously, this is above and beyond."

He does his best to shrug off his embarrassment. "It was really just a matter of now or later. I wasn't ready to pick a headboard yet, though, so sorry, there isn't one." Time to change the subject. "Anyway, as you can see, you'll need to watch your head in a couple of places. Oh, and I brought a little fridge up in case you'd like to keep some things in your room. There's a good, fast wifi connection. The password is on the desk there." He looks around once more. "I guess that's it, unless you have any questions."

"No." Armie stands and walks back over to him. "This is definitely more than I was expecting. I'll be very comfortable, thank you."

"My pleasure. I'll leave you to it then. Let me know if you need anything."

"I should be good, thanks."

"Right then. Enjoy your stay." Tim hands him the key, reluctantly turning and moving towards the door. He tells himself he's just being polite when he turns back again. "So, there’s a fresh pot of coffee, and I think Karen, our amazing cook, made a batch of blueberry scones this morning if you're interested." 

Armie gives him a warm smile. "Oh man, yeah, I'm definitely interested. I've missed all the amazing blueberry treats here. Give me a few minutes, and I'll be down."

Tim smiles in return. "Take your time. I'll see you downstairs."

As he shuts the door behind him, he takes a moment to collect himself, concentrating on slowing the beat of his heart. _Fuck._ He had been worried that the reality of meeting Armie was going to be a disappointment, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. The deep connection he felt the instant they made direct eye contact had been nearly overwhelming. 

Making his way down the stairs, he tries to put all of the confusing thoughts and emotions out of his mind for now. He’s got at least two weeks to make sense of all this; right now, he’s about to have his first real conversation with the man.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so grateful for all of the support for this story. All of you who are reading, kudo'ing and commenting...THANK YOU! It means so much. ❤️
> 
> And I am forever grateful for KendylGirl, who, week after week, patiently helps me sort wheat from chaff. 😇

Tim looks up from his computer as Armie reaches the bottom of the stairs. Clearly unaware of being watched, he stops in front of the burr walnut credenza, reaching out to run his hand along the contoured edge of it. He studies it for several seconds before turning away. Finally clocking Tim’s gaze, he offers an embarrassed smile. "Sorry. I shouldn't touch without asking, but I couldn't resist."

Tim smiles broadly. "No, it's fine. In fact, my grandfather would be very pleased.” 

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” He gets up and moves to stand beside Armie, resting his hand lovingly on top of the cabinet. "Woodworking was Grandpa’s passion, and though he loved all aspects of furniture making, I think he got the most satisfaction out of creating the aesthetic details that make each piece unique. My grandmother created her works of art with oil on canvas, while my grandfather’s medium was wood, but he was as much an artist as she was.”

“Wow. You’re very fortunate to have had two such creative people in your life.”

“Yeah, I agree.” Armie seems genuinely interested, so he continues. “When I was a kid, I used to spend hours hanging out with him in his woodshop. Those are some of my favorite memories. He'd play this game with me where he'd hand me a piece of wood and tell me to use all of my senses to identify it. Walnut was easy because of the distinct smell, but I got pretty good at identifying others using visual and tactile clues...color, weight, porousness, grain pattern, texture.

“He told me that by running his hands over a raw piece of wood, he would sometimes get inspiration for how that particular piece should be used. He loved the ‘feel’ of wood, and if he were here, he'd definitely encourage you to stroke and caress all you want." The suggestive nature of that comment was unintentional, and of course, it immediately brings to mind that incredible dream. He continues quickly.

"He built this credenza the year I spent most of my summer here. I must have been ten or eleven, and I watched it take shape from beginning to end. He explained every step of the process to me and he even let me help with some of the simpler tasks, like sanding and gluing. When it was finished, he made a big deal out of having me sign my name below his on the back because he said all artists needed to sign their work.” He pauses, remembering, and Armie waits for him to continue.

“This piece was actually commissioned by a man in Portland, but when it became such a special shared project between the two of us, Grandpa started building a duplicate that he worked on when I was off doing other things. The other one fulfilled his commission, and this one stayed in the family. He told me that the time we’d spent together working on this was a memory he’d always treasure.” He smiles. “It’s the one specific thing that he left me in his will, so obviously, it means a lot to me."

He suddenly realizes how much he’s shared and how lost in the past he’d become. He shakes his head, mortified. "Oh man, sorry, that got _way_ more personal than I intended." 

Armie quickly reaches out, placing a hand on Tim’s arm, setting the skin underneath on fire. "No, please, don’t apologize. It’s a wonderful story.” His hand lingers, and when their eyes meet, Tim sees understanding and support there. And maybe something...else? The other man seems reluctant to break the connection, but as his hand falls away, he adds, “In fact, it’s perfect fodder for a writer, if you wouldn’t mind me using it sometime.” 

That confuses him. “What?”

“I’m always looking for inspiration, and your story has put all sorts of plot ideas into my head. Of course, I’d change it a little so it wouldn’t be a direct steal, and I’d let you read whatever I come up with before anything would ever be published.” 

Tim laughs. “No worries. By all means, feel free to use it...direct steal or not. I think it would make Grandpa smile too.”

“Good. Thank you. And would you mind showing me where you signed it?”

“Now you’re just being polite.”

“I promise, I’m not. I’d like to take a picture of it to refer to for future inspiration.”

Tim chuckles and shrugs as he directs Armie to one end of the cabinet while he takes the other. They lift the piece away from the wall, angling his side out a bit more, so that they can see the lower right corner where his grandfather’s familiar signature is visible, with his own childish scrawl underneath. The date 8/12/2005 is written beneath both. He hasn’t looked at it in years, certainly not since his grandfather passed, and running his hand over the writing, he’s hit anew with the feeling of loss. 

Armie seems to understand, stepping aside to give him a minute to himself. Fuck, could this day get any weirder? When he feels under control, he moves out of the way so that Armie can examine it and get his picture. He decides to take one as well. When the cabinet is back in place against the wall, Armie gives him a warm smile. “Thank you for sharing all of that with me. You clearly had a very special relationship with your grandfather.” 

"Yeah, I did. And I'm really thankful to have so many beautiful reminders of both of them that I get to live with every day.” Definitely time to change the subject. “But enough of that. I promised you coffee and scones, so how do you take your coffee, Armie?"

It seems to take Armie a minute to switch gears too. "Uh, just black, thanks."

"Right. Well, make yourself at home in the sitting room. I'll be back in a few.”

He breathes a sigh of relief when he's out of sight. He can’t remember ever telling _anyone_ how much that time with his grandfather meant to him, much less someone who is a virtual stranger. And yet, being with Armie feels so comfortable and familiar, and he seemed so genuinely interested in what Tim had to say.

He forces himself to focus on the task at hand as he places a few of the scones on a plate and pours their coffees. Setting everything on a tray, he makes his way to the sitting room. 

"The coffees are the same, so grab one, and help yourself to the scones."

He's already decided on his conversation opener. "So I noticed when I looked at your ID that you live in Boston. I grew up in New York City, but one of my best friends is in Boston now. It's a great town. Is that where you’re from?"

"No, actually, I was raised in Hartford, Connecticut.” Armie picks up a mug of coffee, wrapping his hands around it. “I moved to Boston about three years ago when I accepted a job teaching creative writing at Emerson. I'm taking a leave of absence this semester to research my new book, which I think I mentioned."

"Yeah, and you said you had some information about my grandfather that you may want to use in your book?"

Armie takes a sip of coffee, clearly stalling. "I do, yeah, but can we save that conversation for another day?” 

That surprises him. "Sure, no problem. But you've certainly got me curious."

"I totally understand, but give me a couple of days to get settled in and to make a start on the research I came here to do. Then we can find a time to sit down, and I'll explain. In the meantime, what about you? I know that this was your grandparents' house, but how did you come to be running a bed and breakfast here?"

It’s clear Armie is not ready to share his information, so Tim allows the subject to be changed. "Well, my sister and I were the only grandkids. We lost my grandmother about eight years ago, and when my grandfather passed four years later, he left this house to the two of us.”

He watches as Armie picks up a scone, taking a bite and letting out a moan. "Oh my god, these are amazing. They practically melt in your mouth.”

Tim laughs. “Yeah, Karen’s a phenomenal cook. You’ll love her breakfasts.”

”I can’t wait.” He takes another bite before he continues. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sidetrack the conversation. So your grandfather left this place to you and your sister, but what about your parents? Sorry, again, if that's a nosy question."

"No, it's fine. The remainder of the estate was divided between my dad and my aunt. Apparently our grandfather had already discussed his wishes with each of them, and they were both in favor of the house coming to Pauline and me.”

"Wow. That's quite a gift."

"Definitely. Paulie and I both had a strong sentimental attachment to this place, but it didn’t make sense to let it sit empty. And renting is always a risk, so we _did_ consider selling it and using the money to get on with our lives. But shortly after we took possession, our parents suggested that we all spend a week here together, sorting through things and making plans. I’d already been giving some thought to the idea of turning it into a bed and breakfast, but that week here convinced me. So I discussed the idea with the whole family, and they were all very supportive.”

"Even your sister?"

Tim smiles. "Yeah. Maybe more than anyone else. I wouldn't have taken it on if I had any doubt about her commitment to the idea. To be honest, I think it would have been just as hard for her to let this place go, but she lives in Paris now for most of the year, and she wasn't at a point in her life where she would have been able to uproot and take it on herself."

"But you were?"

"I was. I’d graduated from Columbia the year before with a degree in architecture, and I’d managed to land a job with a premier firm in the city straight out of college. Obviously, I was low on the totem pole, and in a large firm like that, you tend to get pigeonholed into one area at the start. Mine happened to be exterior design, which was fine, but I was working close to 80 hours a lot of weeks, and just when I’d reach a point where I was excited about the direction a particular project was going, it was pulled out of my hands and sent off to someone else for the next phase. It was so frustrating, because sometimes I had all these ideas about how to continue a particular project, but I never got a chance to explore any of them. 

“Bottom line is that by the end of that first year, I realized that I wasn’t going to get the job satisfaction I was looking for with a large firm. I’d just started looking for jobs with smaller firms when this place fell in my lap, and I realized that this house could be the perfect opportunity to change direction. Even ignoring my strong personal attachment to this place, it seemed like a great way to get that overall design experience I was looking for. It needed a lot of work, structurally as well as the obvious interior work to remodel it for bed and breakfast purposes, so I ended up getting everything I’d wished for and more.”

"Very cool. Any regrets?"

He laughs and takes a sip of his coffee. "Well, as with most things, I completely underestimated the amount of time, money, and effort needed to get this place converted and upgraded. For a while, it was one unpleasant surprise after another. I nearly gave up more than once, but I'm glad I didn't. The room you're in is the last to be done, and business has been really good. And...most days, I love what I do, so no, no regrets, though I admit I miss New York a lot."

"Running a bed and breakfast seems like a full-time commitment. So, are you putting architecture on hold? Do you see yourself getting back to it at some point?” He pauses, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I know I'm asking a lot of questions, and please don't feel like you have to answer them all. Probably a hazard of the trade, but I love hearing other people’s stories.” 

Armie’s clear interest in what Tim’s has to say makes him smile. “Always looking for story ideas, huh? No, it's fine. I don't mind talking about it. Obviously, things slow down a lot in the winter months, and Pauline comes to take over a couple times a year, which gives me some time away. And considering that I barely had a life apart from work back in New York, the pace here feels pretty relaxed. Since I’ve been here, I’ve actually had a couple of opportunities to do some architectural work for other people which has been fun. And just this morning I had a meeting about another potential project, so I feel like I’m at least getting to keep my hand in. Who knows? Maybe down the road I’ll hire more help for the B&B, and open my own firm here. I’ve discovered that I really enjoy restoration architecture, and there’s certainly plenty of that to be done on the island.”

“That’s great. You’re clearly good at it. If you wouldn’t mind at some point, I’d love a tour of the place and to hear some of the specifics about what you’ve done."

“Sure. I’m always happy to show the place off. So, can I ask you a couple of questions now?"

Armie laughs, and the sound of it makes Tim’s heart flutter. "Well, seeing as how I’ve just given you the third degree, it seems only fair. Go for it."

"Okay, so first of all, I was just wondering if we might have met when we were kids. I mean, our times visiting here in the summers may not have ever overlapped, but for some reason, you seem...familiar. How old were you when you came here, and what years would that have been?"

“Well, I'm 30 now, and we started coming here for a few weeks each summer, starting when I was maybe nine, and I think the last time I was here I would have been 15...so 1997 to 2003ish? We stopped coming when my aunt and uncle moved back to Connecticut. And yeah, I’m sure we met as kids. I brought a picture I can show you later.”

"Really? So you and Pauline are the same age, but I'm four years younger. I doubt we were hanging in the same circles, cause that's like a huge difference when you're a kid, right?"

Armie chuckles. "It is. But when you’re on vacation, you make exceptions, and I sort of remember you as a snot-nosed kid.” 

Tim laughs at that. "Wow... okay, but for the record, I was _never_ a snot-nosed kid. Even Pauline let me play with her and her friends sometimes. Maybe you remember her." Tim pulls out his phone and scrolls to one of his favorite pics of his sister. “This was taken last Christmas, but I think she looks pretty much the same. Just older. And I can say that because she’s not here to punch me for calling her old.” He passes the phone to Armie.

Armie raises his eyebrows as he looks down at the picture. "Wow, she's stunning.” Tim is immediately overcome with irrational jealousy, until he adds, “And you two look a _lot_ alike. I may have met her. Honestly, I don't remember." He hands Tim's phone back as he grabs another scone, smiling. "But for some reason, I remember a kid named Ryan."

"Ryan, yeah, I remember him. He had an older brother and a younger sister, and they lived around the corner from here. He was a bit of a hellraiser, if I recall." 

Armie laughs again. "That's probably why I remember him. Birds of a feather and all."

Tim is surprised. "Wait. Are you telling me you were a wild kid?"

A mischievous smirk appears, and Tim's heart lurches unexpectedly. "Let's just say I had my moments. My parents are ultra conservative and they were very strict-well mostly my mother-but sometimes the need to rebel won out over common sense. I’m an only child, so there was no one else to take the focus off of me and my obvious failure at being the kind of son they expected me to be."

Tim nods his understanding. "Yeah, I guess I get that. I’m lucky that my parents are very liberal, and they made sure that Pauline and I were raised to be independent thinkers and to question everything. So, what about your aunt and uncle who lived here?"

"It was my dad's brother, his wife, and my two cousins. Their family was much more laid-back, and I always enjoyed my time with them. We sort of had little family reunions here, which meant that my grandfather was usually here too when we were visiting." He pauses before adding, "It was actually my grandfather who brought me to this house."

"Really? So he knew my grandparents?"

He sees Armie hesitate. "He did, yeah. Mostly your grandfather, but I'm going to save that explanation for later too. Sorry, I know it must seem like I'm being an asshole about this, but I'd like you to hear the whole story all at once. And to be honest, it’s a conversation best had over a glass of something stronger than coffee."

Tim just stares at him. _What the hell?_ He takes a breath before he speaks. "Okay, but you _do_ realize that I'm now imagining all sorts of horrible shit, right?"

Armie grimaces as he shakes his head. "I'm sorry. It's not horrible, I promise. Just...unexpected. And for all I know, you may already know what I have to share so it won't be a big deal anyway. Just give me a couple of days. I'll provide the booze, and we'll sit down, and I'll tell you the whole story as I know it. Okay?”

In spite of his curiosity, it’s clear he’ll have to wait. “Yeah, okay. Just let me know when you’re ready.” He’s about to change the subject when the front door opens, and a couple hauling luggage make their way inside. Tim looks at his watch. “Damn, sorry, looks like my late arrivals are early.” He catches the eye of the man and waves a greeting as he stands.

“No worries.” Armie stands as well. “Thanks for the coffee and scones, and please pass on my compliments to your cook.”

Tim smiles. “I will.”

Armie turns to leave, but stops and turns back with a question. “I almost forgot to ask. What’s your booze preference?”

He shrugs. “I’m not too fussy. Scotch, maybe?"

Armie smiles. “Excellent choice. Thanks again, and I’ll see you later.” 

“Yeah, later. And please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.”

With an acknowledging nod and wave, Armie heads for the stairs.

Tim watches him for a few seconds before turning with a smile to greet his new guests. “Hi, welcome to the André Inn. You must be the Fergusons.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boys share a glass or two of scotch while Armie shares his surprising information with Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you to all of you lovely people out there for showing such love and support for this story. I appreciate it, and all of you, so very much. I hope you will all continue to hang in there as there's a lot more to come!
> 
> And as always, I must sing the praises of KendylGirl for her always spot on beta work. She absolutely deserves to be serenaded! Unfortunately, I can't carry a tune, but hopefully she will appreciate the intention. 😉

The next morning, Armie heads out right after breakfast with his laptop bag slung over one shoulder. He acknowledges Tim with a smile and throws out a casual, “Later,” as he goes out the door. 

Tim tries not to wonder where he might be going, or when he’ll be back. How he’ll spend his day, and who he might meet and talk to. He attempts to put all thoughts out of his mind about the way Armie’s vivid blue eyes sparkle and crinkle at the corners when he laughs, and how the deep, sultry timbre of his voice reminds Tim of rich dark chocolate or a fine red wine. And he finds every distraction he can think of to keep from reliving that extraordinary dream, which felt so real and _so_ fucking right. 

But hell, who’s he kidding? He may as well try not to breathe. Forget that they have a bit of shared history, and that their grandfathers knew each other. And fuck, maybe he’d even manage to ignore the fact that Armie is very easy on the eyes. And that he’s also charming, witty, kind, intelligent...the list goes on. But when you factor in a certainty that they were destined to meet, it’s absolutely hopeless. Tim knows he’s well and truly gone. 

And that would feel pretty overwhelming if it wasn’t for the fact that it also feels safe and...comfortable. And he’s pretty sure that Armie feels the connection between them too, because Tim couldn’t possibly feel it so intensely if it wasn’t reciprocated, at least on some level. 

The brief research he had done on the topic of soulmates had generated far more questions than answers, so he decides to spend a little time delving into it in more detail. There’s no shortage of information, and much of it describes some of the things he’s been feeling. _When you meet your soulmate for the first time, it won't feel like you're just meeting, you'll feel like you've known them forever._ Yeah, okay. Check that one off. _Something inside of you recognizes them way before your mind can fully comprehend it. It may feel like ‘love at first sight’ or sometimes more like a strong sense of familiarity._ Check, again. _Your rational mind wants to find an explanation for it, but your soul already knows what it feels because its other half is found._ Yep. _Soulmates have definitely met before, whether in this life or a previous one._ Wait, what? A previous life? The idea of knowing someone in a former life is a bit more than he’s prepared to consider right now.

He pushes back from the computer and begins pacing around the foyer. Maybe trying to define whatever this is he’s experiencing is the wrong approach. Maybe he should just relax and see how things play out. He’s almost convinced himself to let it go when that dream pops into his head again, and he sighs. He knows he can’t stop quite yet. Sitting back down at the computer, he types, ‘dreaming about someone before you meet them’ into the search bar and the first hit tells him all he needs to know. 

_Soulmate dreams often occur before you meet your soulmate. Sometimes you dream of meeting this person, feeling a strong connection to them. The dream might center around a loving relationship, but sometimes the dreams are more cryptic. You may see what they physically look like, or you may only have a sense of their essence. These dreams can be widely varied, and they may be predictive in nature. Soulmate dreams often occur on the astral plane, which is why they feel so real. When you awaken, you often feel that person was really with you. Sometimes it can overwhelm you._ Tim huffs out a laugh. Well, no shit, Sherlock. He does one last search on ‘astral plane,’ and it freaks him out enough that he decides he’s done with this research for the time being.

****

*****

****

Around four that afternoon, as he’s coming down the stairs after showing some new guests to their room, he looks up to see Armie walking out of the dining room with a mug of coffee in one hand and a stack of cookies in the other. Armie notices him about the same time, and he looks embarrassed as he says, “I can’t tell you the last time I had ginger snaps, and these are _just_ like the ones my grandmother used to make. Sorry, I probably took more than I should have.”

Tim can’t keep the smile off his face. “Don’t be sorry, they’re there for you to enjoy. You can’t take too many.”

Armie, apparently relieved, smiles back. “Okay, well, I may feel guilty about it, but I’m definitely not putting any of them back.” He takes a bite of cookie, his face expressing total bliss, as he gestures toward the sitting room. “Do you have time to join me for a cup of coffee? And just so you know, I’m not sharing any of these. You’ll have to get your own.”

Tim laughs at that, and he’s surprised by the overwhelming feeling of joy that a simple thing like Armie wanting to share a cup of coffee with him brings. “Sure. Sit, and I’ll be there in a minute. But in the interest of full disclosure, I just _happened_ to be in the kitchen this morning when Karen was taking a batch out of the oven, so I have to confess that I’ve already had more than my fair share.” He’s rewarded by the laugh that Armie tosses over his shoulder as he heads for the sitting room. 

They talk for nearly an hour, transitioning easily from topic to topic, with Armie sharing a couple of stories from his childhood, and telling Tim about his teaching job at Emerson, while Tim talks about growing up in the heart of New York City and spending time each summer in the small town of Campbellton, in the French Canadian part of New Brunswick, with his dad’s relatives. 

Armie’s second day there follows the pattern of the first, and they meet again late afternoon for coffee and casual conversation.

By the third morning, Tim finds himself looking forward to another late afternoon chat, but just after breakfast, Armie throws him a curve. Tim is in the foyer talking with a couple who have asked for restaurant recommendations when, out of the corner of his eye, he sees Armie coming down the stairs. He’s expecting the usual acknowledgement as Armie heads out the door for the day, but instead, he hangs back, browsing through the stack of maps and books on local attractions that Tim makes available for his guests. 

Having ascertained the couple’s food preferences and asking a few questions that give him an idea of the environment they are looking for, Tim recommends two places that should satisfy, showing them on a map of the town where each is located. 

When the couple moves off, Armie makes his way over to where Tim is standing, and his close proximity causes Tim’s breath to catch.

“Hey, you got a second?”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Nothing. I...I mean, I don’t need anything. I just wanted to tell you that I’ve had a couple of days to settle in and do a bit of the background research I wanted to do, so whenever it works for you, we can sit down, and I can share the information that I have about your grandfather. That is...if you still want to hear it.”

Tim nods. He definitely wants to hear it. And he’ll take any excuse to spend more time with Armie. “I do, yeah. My evenings are usually pretty open. After dinner tonight or tomorrow?”

“I’m good tonight. What time, and where do you want to meet?”

“Seven-thirty or eight? And my apartment is...there.” Tim points at the door that leads to his private rooms. “We’re less likely to be interrupted there.” 

“Okay, that sounds good. Shall we say eight?”

“That works.”

Armie lifts his chin in acknowledgement. “Great. I’ll see you later then.” He turns, heading for the door, but he stops and looks back, smiling. “Oh, and I picked up a bottle of scotch.”

Tim smiles. “Thank you. Anything you need besides glasses?”

“Nope. And I’m hopeful that you’ll find my choice acceptable.”

He can’t help but laugh now. “Like I said, I’m pretty easy to please. I mean, unless it tastes like lighter fluid. Anything above that, and I’m good.”

Armie laughs in return. “Yeah, I think this is at least a step above lighter fluid.” 

“Okay, I trust you. See you at eight.”

“Later.”

****

*****

****

He’s been pacing for the last half hour. He’s both excited and nervous about what tonight might bring, and there are so many thoughts and emotions bubbling inside him, he feels as though he might explode.

It had seemed this morning that Armie had been a bit nervous too, but Tim’s not sure if it’s because he’s feeling some of the same things Tim is feeling, or if it has to do with what he wants to share about Tim’s grandfather. He had said that the information is not bad, just unexpected. What the fuck does that even mean? At exactly eight, Armie knocks on his door. Tim takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever is to come as he reaches to open it. Armie is standing there with a grin on his face, holding up a bottle of 12-year-old Macallan. "Hope this will pass as a decent Scotch."

Tim grins back at him. "Shit, yeah. Well, needs must. This is actually _several_ steps above lighter fluid. Come on in." He steps aside and gestures for Armie to enter, noticing that Armie is also carrying a large manila envelope. "Seriously, you didn't have to go all out. My palette really isn't that sophisticated."

Armie rolls his eyes. " _Now_ you tell me." He reaches out, placing a hand on Tim's arm, and the warmth of the touch sets Tim’s heart racing. "Kidding...I'm totally kidding. Honestly, this is something of a special occasion, so I hope this fits the bill."

Tim turns and leads the way to the kitchen. "It totally does, thank you. In fact, it calls for the fancy whisky glasses and chilling stones my aunt gave me for Christmas last year."

He pulls the glasses out of the cupboard and retrieves the stones from the freezer. "One or two?"

Armie laughs. "It's like tea...one lump or two? What the hell, let's splurge and go for two."

"You got it."

When Armie has poured them each a generous two fingers, they move to the living room, and Tim gestures toward the sofa. "Make yourself comfortable."

Armie sits on one end, and Tim takes the other. When both are settled, Armie raises his glass in a toast. "I think it was Mark Twain who said, 'too much of anything is bad, but too much good whisky is barely enough.'"

Tim laughs. "Well, he's not wrong." He raises his glass and taps it gently against Armie's. "Santé."

"Salud."

The burn is exquisite and it's definitely one of the smoothest scotches he's ever tasted. "Fuck, yeah, that's good."

Armie smiles and nods. "Yeah, I'd say it's definitely drinkable." He sobers quickly as he sets his glass on the coffee table and turns to face Tim. "So, first of all, I want to apologize for all the mysterious bullshit, but the truth is, not everyone would be okay with what I have to say, and I wanted a chance to get to know you a bit and get a feel for how you might react."

His heart lurches. "Okay... And...?"

"Well, it's clear from our conversations that you and your grandfather were close. It's also clear that you're not a rigid, 'black and white' sort of person. You're not only okay with the gray areas in life, you embrace them. And I sense that you take the time to consider and weigh all sides before you make decisions and judgments. _And_ that you tend to take people at face value and accept them for who they are."

Tim considers this. "Fucking hell. You got all that in two days?”

Armie laughs. “Well, I consider myself a pretty good judge of character, and for some reason it feels like I’ve known you a lot longer.” 

Tim laughs nervously but he’s very happy to hear that. “Yeah, I definitely feel that too.” There’s so much more he wants to say, but now is not the time. “And I guess that’s a pretty accurate assessment of me. Like I said, my parents encouraged us to question and explore, and to be open to new things. _And_ to appreciate the differences in people.”

He can’t quite read the expression on Armie's face at his statement. There's a hint of fondness, but he also remembers Armie’s comment about his parents being strict and conservative, so maybe he’s just wishing that he'd had that sort of support as a child. He’ll think about it later, but right now, he needs to know what Armie has to say. “Seriously, man, you’ve got me on pins and needles here, so can you please tell me whatever it is?"

Armie nods. "Yeah, of course….sorry. I’ll start at the beginning. My grandmother passed away when I was eight. She was wonderful, and we all missed her very much, and I still remember how lost my grandfather was that first year without her."

Tim absentmindedly picks up his drink and takes a sip, totally focused on what Armie is saying. He remembers the same thing about his own grandfather when his grandmother died.

"We came here for the first time the year after she died. My aunt, uncle, and cousins had moved to Bar Harbor earlier that year, and they invited us all to come up that summer for a family get-together. I guess they thought it would be something fun for my grandpa to look forward to, and it worked out so well, it became an annual thing.

"We all enjoyed our visits here, but my grandfather seemed particularly drawn to the place. So much so that he started coming here several times a year on his own, even after Uncle Max and Aunt Ginny moved back to Connecticut. He only stopped making the trip a few years ago."

He pauses, and Tim waits quietly for him to continue.

"I was very close to my grandfather, just as you were to yours. I think I mentioned that I'm an only child and that my parents were not the easiest people to talk to. I was lucky that my grandfather lived in Hartford too, so I got to spend a lot of time with him, and he was always there for me when I needed him. He understood me in a way my parents never have, and he always encouraged me to believe in myself and to be true to myself.”

Armie hesitates for a moment before continuing. "He was the first person I talked to in high school when I realized that I was gay, and he was so incredibly supportive. He was with me when I told my parents, and he talked until he was blue in the face, trying to make them understand that being gay was natural and healthy, and not sinful or something to be ashamed of. To this day, they've never accepted that part of me, but it doesn't matter as much as it would have if I hadn't had his support all these years." 

Two things flash through Tim's mind. The first is that he is, once again, so grateful for his amazing parents and their unwavering love and support. And the second, though he had suspected and hoped...fuck, Armie just confirmed that he's gay. Tim offers a supportive smile. "He sounds like a wonderful guy. I'm really glad he was there for you."

"Yeah, me too. So when we found out earlier this year that he had stage IV Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, I was devastated, but he was totally resigned. He told me that he'd had a wonderful life and he had no regrets. He was ready for the next adventure.” 

Armie takes a sip of his drink and pauses for a moment again. "I made it back to see him as often as I could after the diagnosis, and one afternoon when I was visiting him, he told me that he had something he wanted to share with me."

Armie glances at his glass and gestures at Tim's. "This is where things get interesting, so it seems like an appropriate time for a top-up."

Tim stands. "I'll bring the bottle in."

He retrieves the bottle, handing it off to Armie, who pours them each another generous amount. They clink glasses again as Armie continues.

"He told me that there was something he had never shared with anyone, and that I was the only one who would ever hear it from him. The first summer we came here, he'd gone out for a walk to explore the town and he'd ended up in Agamont Park, where he’d stopped to take pictures of the boats out in Frenchman Bay. When he finished, he turned around to make his way back up the hill to the sidewalk, but he was fiddling with his camera and not paying attention to where he was going, so he barreled headlong into a man who was walking toward the pier, knocking the other man on his ass."

Tim smiles. "My grandfather?"

"Yep."

"Well, he was slightly built like me, so it wouldn't have taken much to knock him down."

Armie smiles and nods. "And my grandfather was tall and stocky like me. A bit like a bull in a china shop. Anyway, my grandfather helped yours up, offering profuse apologies, making sure that he wasn't hurt. When it was clear no damage had been done, they finally made direct eye contact, and my grandfather told me it was like a bolt of lightning shot through him. He said it felt as though he was staring into his own eyes...like he had just found a part of himself that had always been missing.

"Apparently your grandfather felt it too, because he smiled, shook his head, and murmured something like, 'Wow.' They spent the next couple of hours sitting on a bench in the park, looking out over the bay and talking nonstop. They both felt sure that they must have met at some other time, but could come up with nothing that tied them together in any way. My grandpa said that the connection between them was so strong that it felt as though they had always known each other. That they were merely renewing an acquaintance that had been forged a long time ago."

He stops talking, appearing to study Tim's face for a reaction, but Tim is barely aware of that. He's not only surprised, he’s stunned. This is too much of a fucking coincidence. He tries a couple of times to say something before finally managing to string some words together. “So, you're telling me that your grandfather and mine were like...what? _Soulmates_ or something?” 

Armie shrugs. "Maybe? Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t think even my grandfather had the words to explain it, but that’s sort of how he described it. He said that there was an immediate, incredibly deep connection between them that day that they both felt, and he did use the term 'soulmates.'” He stops again, looking at Tim with concern. “You look kinda freaked out. Are you okay?"

Tim huffs out a laugh, shaking his head because he’s not really sure if he’s okay or not. He discovered from his research that not all soulmate relationships are romantic, but most are. _Fuck._ "Yeah, I mean...I think so. It’s just...I’m not really sure where this is going, and the whole thing about soulmates is so weird because…” 

Armie waits for him to continue, and when Tim hesitates, he prompts, “Because...?”

He definitely doesn’t want to get into all of that at this point, but there’s a whole lot going on here that he can’t explain, and he decides that he might as well offer at least a partial truth. “It’s weird because I was just reading something about soulmates.” 

“Really? Okay. So, yeah, that’s a little weird. And obviously, there’s more to the story. Are you ready to hear more, or do you want to stop?” 

He shakes his head again. “No, I don’t want to stop. I want to hear it all. It’s just that I'm a little overwhelmed at the moment.” He pauses. “You weren't kidding when you said that what you had to tell me would be unexpected."

Armie chuckles. "No, I wasn’t kidding. And believe me, I understand the ‘overwhelmed’ feeling. I had the same reaction when I first heard all of this. Let me know when you’re ready for me to continue.” 

Tim nods. “Just give me a sec.” He picks up his glass and takes a larger sip than is prudent, coughing and spluttering as he sets it back down. When he recovers, he nods at Armie. "Okay, go on."

"Okay. So they talked until they both realized that hours had passed and their respective families would be looking for them. They made plans to meet the following day in the same spot.

"Over the course of the next couple of weeks, they met regularly, and by the time my grandfather had to leave, it was clear to him that whatever the bond between them was, it was deeper and more intense than anything he'd ever felt in his life. He told me that they had both sensed that first day that the connection they felt was much more than friendship, and that whatever else it was, it was undeniable, and it was not something that either was willing to let go of.

"They kept in touch with letters and phone calls, and they saw each other at least three or four times a year from then on...hence my grandfather’s frequent visits here. I always thought that he continued to come back because he’d fallen in love with the island, but it turns out, he’d actually fallen in love with...your grandfather."

Armie stops, giving Tim a chance to react. He knows that once he's had time to digest all of this, he'll have a lot of questions, but there’s one very important one he has to ask now. "So, you're making it sound like their relationship was more than just a strong friendship, but my grandfather was happily married. What about my grandmother?" 

Armie hesitates before speaking. "I think that’s a complicated question, and one I don’t necessarily have the answer to. But I do know that the relationship between our grandfathers was definitely more than a friendship. They fell deeply in love, and before you even ask, yes, at some point, they became lovers."

"Holy shit. Jesus Fucking Christ." Compelled to motion, Tim stands and starts pacing around the room. How does he even begin to wrap his head around all this? His grandparents had always seemed so happy together. Grandpa would have never cheated on Grandma...would he? A thought suddenly pops into his head. 

He stops and turns to Armie. "So, please don't take this the wrong way, but is it possible that your grandfather was romanticising the relationship because he’d wanted it to be more than it really was? Or maybe in his old age, he actually believed more happened than actually did?”

Armie smiles and nods with understanding. "Look, I have a pretty good idea of what you're feeling right now because I went through a version of it myself, but no, he was definitely not exaggerating the relationship. When you're ready, we can talk about the dozens of letters that I've read from your grandfather to mine."

 _Oh, fuck. Of course._ He lets out a resigned sigh and returns to his place on the couch. More careful this time, he takes another small sip of scotch, before turning to Armie with a strained smile. "Yeah, okay. And by the way, thank you for insisting that alcohol would be needed for this conversation."

Armie laughs. "You’re welcome. My grandfather kindly provided it to me when I first heard about all this, so I'm just paying it forward."

Tim takes a deep breath. "Okay, I'm ready. Go on."

"At the time my grandfather shared all of this with me, he knew he didn't have long to live, and he said that he wanted there to be someone who knew that this great love had existed. Then he told me about the letters, and he told me where to find them once he had passed, but he didn't want me to read them until after he was gone. Obviously, I honored his wishes and only read them after he'd died.

"Most of what’s in them is mundane, day-to-day stuff, but there are some things that are much more than that. But before we talk about the letters, I want to finish telling you everything he shared with me that day.” He pauses, looking a bit sheepish. “And I apologize if this next bit feels intrusive, but we spent some time talking about you.”

It’s no surprise to Tim that his grandfather might have talked about him, but he’s curious why Armie’s grandfather would have mentioned him to Armie. “Okay?” 

“It seems that my grandfather and yours...” Armie stops and smiles, shaking his head. “Sorry, but this whole ‘my grandfather,’ ‘your grandfather,’ thing is getting confusing as hell. How about we just start calling them André and Nathaniel?”

Tim nods. “Sure, that’s fine.”

“Okay, so it seems that André and Nathaniel had discussed whether or not they ever wanted anyone in their families to know about their relationship. Nathaniel, apparently, had always wanted me to know the story, and André was fine with that. André talked about telling you...and he mentioned you specifically. Partially, I think, because of the close bond the two of you shared, but also…”

He knows exactly why. “Because I’m gay.”

“Yeah. Again, I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business but...”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve been out since I figured it out, which was also in high school, by the way. But unlike you, I had the unconditional love and support of my parents.” He chuckles. “My mom's only comment when I told them I was gay was that she was glad I'd finally figured it out because she hadn't been looking forward to having to explain it to me.” 

Armie smiles at that, and Tim can’t help but notice that he looks a bit sad and wistful. “That’s great. I hope I get a chance to meet your parents at some point.”

They make eye contact, and their gazes lock just long enough for it to feel ‘different.’ “Yeah, I hope so too.” 

Armie is the first to look away, and he shakes his head as if he’s trying to recapture his train of thought. “So anyway, André had debated about telling you at some point, but in the end, they agreed on a different plan. And once again, I apologize. This is a little awkward, but I’m just relaying what I was told. Nathaniel explained to me that they not only delighted in the fact that they both had gay grandsons, but they felt that it was significant.”

Armie takes another sip of his drink. “I just want to interject here that I think it’s important to take their generation into account, as well as the fact that their connection would have been such a surprise for both of them. I think the fact that you and I are both gay was one more thing that they shared, and they both very much wanted us to meet.”

Tim nods. The reason is clear. “They were matchmaking.”

Armie smiles. “Yeah, I think that’s exactly what they were doing.” He meets Tim’s gaze again briefly before looking down at the glass in his hand. “And who knows? Maybe they were onto something.”

The seemingly casual comment hangs between them for a few seconds, and before Tim even has a chance to let what Armie said actually register, he continues. “And I should say, meet as adults, because we did, indeed, meet as kids. But we’ll save that discussion for another day.” He bends down and picks up the manila envelope. “And now...the letters.” Reaching inside, he pulls out a rubber-banded bunch which he passes to Tim.

“There are well over a hundred letters from André in the box that Nathaniel kept.” He nods at the stack in Tim’s hand. “There are ten there that I pulled out randomly for you. I have no idea what’s in those particular letters, but they should give you a good feel for the content which, as I said, is mostly trivial, but there are some revelations in them. I brought the box with me, so obviously all of the letters are available for you anytime you want to read them. You can let me know if, or when, you’re ready for them.”

Tim looks down at the letters in his hand, immediately recognizing the precise, perfectly slanted handwriting on the top envelope as that of his grandfather. “Thank you, I appreciate that. And I definitely _do_ want to read them.” He pauses as he tries to get his thoughts in order. “I’m still sort of in shock here, but the obvious thought that comes to mind is that if Nathaniel kept all of these letters from André, it would make sense that André would have kept the ones he received from Nathaniel. After he died, our family went through every room in the house, as well as the attic, and we never found them.”

Armie picks up the bottle of Scotch, lightly topping off their glasses before he speaks. “Well, they exist. And by the way, Nathaniel told me that they also emailed, but they were of a generation that grew up writing letters, and they each took pleasure and comfort in getting an actual letter from the other...having that physical representation of their relationship. He said letters were much more romantic.” Smiling, he reaches for his glass. “Nathaniel’s letters to André are the last thing I wanted to talk about tonight. Are you up for hearing the rest?”

He huffs a laugh. “Fuck.” He picks up his glass, holds it up in a mock toast and downs another large gulp. “Well, at this point, in for a penny, right? So, yeah...go for it.”

“André did keep Nathaniel’s letters, and he put them somewhere safe well before he died. Nathaniel knew that André was leaving the house to you and your sister, and he hoped that it would stay in your family. When he discovered that you had moved here and opened the bed and breakfast, he was optimistic that his letters to André could also be found and shared.” 

“I’m guessing you know where to find them then.”

“I do, yeah. At least generally, but you’re going to have to help me with the specifics. I assume that large outbuilding is André’s woodworking shop?”

“Yeah… Fuck. Of _course_ that’s where they’d be.” He takes a minute to think. “But I’ve nosed around a fair amount out there too. They must not be in an obvious place, or I would have found them by now.”

“No, he hid them.” Armie stops and shakes his head. “I wanted you to know they exist, but as anxious as I am to read those letters from Nathaniel, I’m going to suggest that we wait a while to look for them. I think you’ve got enough to digest at the moment. They’ll either be where I’ve been told they are, or they won’t, but if they _are_ there, they’re not going anywhere.”

Tim wants to protest, but he’s feeling more than a little stressed and overwhelmed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I haven’t even read any of _these_ yet.” He holds up the letters he’s still clutching in his hand. 

Silence hangs between them for a moment before Armie speaks, quietly.

“You know, I’m starting to wonder if telling you was the right thing. Honestly, that’s why I waited a couple of days. I wanted to get to know you a bit, and I went back and forth about it, but it didn’t seem fair to keep it from you, and I felt like you had a right to know. Still, I can see how painful this is for you, and I’m truly sorry for that. Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut.”

Tim can’t help reaching out to rest his hand on Armie’s arm. “No, Armie, it’s all good. Seriously. I’m glad you told me. I really am. It’s just going to take some time for me to get my head around it. And besides, _they_ sent you here. André and Nathaniel both wanted you to tell me, so we can’t ignore that. You were just carrying out their wishes.”

“Yeah, I guess. But it was a little easier for me because my grandmother had been gone for a number of years before Nathaniel and André met.” Their eyes lock, and Tim can see the concern in Armie’s. “You know, I’m happy to listen if you want to talk through whatever you’re feeling right now.” He smiles. “I’m pretty sure I can relate a little.”

Tim smiles back and nods. He sets the letters aside, tucking his legs up underneath himself. “Honestly, I’m not sure _what_ I’m feeling. A lot of things.” He picks up his glass, mostly for something to do, as he struggles to find the words. I always thought I _knew_ my grandfather, you know? I mean...at least all of the important things about him. We were so close...he was a huge part of my life, and yet I had _no_ idea he was keeping a secret like this. And I guess I’m more than a little hurt and disappointed that he didn’t tell me himself, and we could have talked about it.” 

Armie nods in understanding. “Yeah, I totally get that.”

“And then there’s the whole issue of my grandmother. I think the worst part of all this is that I’ll never know if she knew, and if she did know, was she devastated? I don’t doubt that he loved her, and I know he would never deliberately hurt her, but he fucking cheated on her! And I get that you don’t choose to fall in love with someone, but you _can_ choose whether to act on those feelings or not.” 

“That’s true. I hope once you read André’s letters, you’ll have a little better understanding of the situation. I can tell you that there are a few references to Rosie in them, and I think...what are you smiling about?”

Tim chuckles as he shakes his head. “My grandmother’s name was Paulette. Her middle name was Rose. Grandpa always called her Rosie, and she always called him Jack, which was a variant of _his_ middle name, which was Jacques. I asked about it once, and Grandma told me she didn’t even remember when it started, but it stuck, and I don’t think I ever heard them call each other anything else.”

Armie gets a soft look on his face. “That’s nice...I like that.”

Tim’s smile is fond. “Yeah, me too. Anyway, sorry I interrupted you.” 

“No, it’s fine. I was just going to say that I think his references to your grandmother in the letters may give you a little better understanding of their relationship, but I didn’t know them, and maybe my interpretation of what I read is wrong, so I’m not going to comment beyond that. But let me ask you a question. What did you see between your grandparents when you were with them?”

“That’s the thing...I only ever saw two people who clearly loved and respected each other. They laughed a lot and teased each other; and they were quite affectionate, right up to the end. When Grandma died, Grandpa was truly heartbroken.” 

“So maybe that’s what you need to focus on. André and Nathaniel may have fallen in love, but that doesn’t mean that André didn’t also remain very much in love with your grandmother. I think it’s fair to say that love is an immensely complex emotion, and the heart’s capacity for it is pretty much endless. Hopefully, once you read the letters, and as you have more time to think about everything, you’ll be able to make some sort of peace with it all.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” Tim shakes his head and smiles at Armie, who looks surprised by that reaction.

“What now?”

“Nothing. It’s just...how did you know _exactly_ the right thing to say?”

Armie gives Tim a warm smile in return. “Maybe because, if I were in your position, it’s what I would want to hear? But for the record, I wasn’t just saying any of that to make you feel better. I absolutely believe it.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that a lot.”

“You’re welcome. And now...” Armie swallows the last of his drink and stands. “It’s time for me to get out of your hair. I’m sure you’re anxious to read those...” He nods at the stack of letters. “...and we’ll have lots of time to continue this discussion another day.”

Tim stands too and walks Armie to the door, but before he leaves, Armie turns back to Tim with a serious look on his face. “I’m going to give you some space for a couple of days, so don’t feel like I’m avoiding you. I just think you’ll need some time to process all of this, and I don’t want to distract you or get in the way of that. Let me know when you want the rest of the letters. And when you’re ready to talk again, I’m available, okay?”

“Thank you. You’ve been really great about all of this, and I appreciate it. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Tim wanders back into the living room, so many thoughts and emotions fighting for focus, he has no idea how to begin processing any of them. But those letters are his first priority. He eyes the bottle of scotch, tempted to top off his glass before diving into them, but his better judgement wins out, and he opts for a glass of water instead. Settling back down on the couch, he takes a deep breath as he pulls the rubberband off the stack, opens the first letter, and begins to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well now you know! Did you figure it out, or were you surprised? I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim discovers that André's letters contain a surprise or two, and the boys meet to discuss them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a tough chapter to write because it's a pivotal one, and it really sets the stage for the rest of the story. There are a number of important little details and bits of foreshadowing in it. Unfortunately, I won't know till we get to the end if I've managed to get it right! It's also a fun one, and I hope you will enjoy it! 
> 
> Once again, my thanks to KendylGirl for her invaluable help! I suspect she may be an excellent gardener because she's doing her best to teach me the art of skillful pruning. 😊

_My dear Nathaniel,_

_Though I hesitate to get my hopes up, I believe that spring is, at last, almost upon us. The sidewalks are free of ice for the first time in months, and it won't be long now until the trees start showing signs of life. Such a joyous and rejuvenating time of year! But of course the best part about spring is that it brings us closer to May, when we will be together once more, and I can hold you in my arms again._

_You've been on my mind more than usual today as I came across the copy of_ Armance _you gave me whilst searching for my book of Shelley's poems. I must tell you that my heart still beats wildly reading your inscription:_ Our souls met long before our eyes did...For you, in silence

_I have known people to do impetuous things in their middle age, but never did I expect to be one of them. What fools we mortals be, eh? And yet, at the same time, I understand that falling in love is never a conscious decision. From the moment our eyes met that day in the park, the pull between us was irresistible, and our bond soul-deep. I have no doubt it will be just as strong as it is today until we no longer walk this earth. I miss you more than I can say, my love._

_Until we can be together again, know that I am forever yours._

_Je t'aime beaucoup,_

_A~_

The page slips from Tim's fingers as he sits in stunned silence. It’s not that he had doubted what Armie had told him, but he had definitely underestimated the impact that reading his grandfather's actual words, and hearing his voice so clearly, would have. He feels his chest tighten, so he stands, hoping to relieve some of the pressure. Closing his eyes, he focuses on taking slow, deep breaths, and when the tension eases, he walks to the bathroom where he splashes cold water on his face. 

Returning to his place on the couch, he picks up the letter and reads it again. _hold you in my arms..._ _my love..._ _I am forever yours…_ He had anticipated that there would be endearments and expressions of love, but the mixed feelings those phrases elicit in him are hard to sort out. 

The strong connection between these two men comes through so clearly, and how can that not be a beautiful thing? Especially given the strangely similar bond he feels with Armie. But he can’t get his grandmother out of his mind. Did she know about the two of them, and was all of their happiness at the expense of hers?

He thinks back to the last few times he saw his grandparents together, and he can honestly say that he never got any indication that there was any sort of tension between them. Quite the opposite, in fact. One incident in particular comes to mind. He had been looking for his grandfather, as they had made plans to catch low tide and walk the sandbar over to Bar Island. He’d found them both in the backyard, working in his grandmother’s vegetable garden. As he came out of the house, he could hear his grandmother scolding his grandfather, slapping at his hand, but both of them were laughing. She glanced up and saw him first. “Ah, Timmy, thank goodness. Would you please get this old man out of my hair? He thinks he’s helping, but I have to watch him like a hawk to keep him from pulling the plants out of the ground along with the weeds.”

His grandfather had feigned indignation. “Timmy, would you please tell this old woman that she shouldn’t turn her nose up at free labor?” She had huffed and mumbled something about how gardening was supposed to be peaceful and relaxing. Grandpa had responded with,“Fine, we’ll leave you to it then, but don’t you overdo in the sun.” 

“Oh, for heaven's sake, stop fussing. I can take care of myself. And _you_ keep an eye on the time. You don’t want to get stuck out on the island again.”

“ _One_ time. That happened _one_ time, twenty years ago.” He’d leaned over and given Tim’s grandmother a peck on the cheek. “Besides, I’ve got Timmy to keep me in line.” As he and his grandfather had headed back in the house, his grandfather had confessed that he had no problem distinguishing the plants from the weeds, but he pretended that he did, just to get a rise out of her. 

Tim smiles at the memory. The affection between them had been obvious that afternoon, and he can think of dozens of other interactions just like it. His grandparents may not have had a grand passion, but there is no doubt in his mind that they had loved each other very much. 

Releasing a sigh, he folds the letter back into its envelope and opens the next one. Most of the letters are similar in content to the first. One details André’s latest woodworking project, another discusses an unusual bird his grandfather had spotted in the tree in front of their house. But in each one, there is also a discernable underlying depth of feeling. As he nears the end of the stack, he comes across one that mentions his grandmother. 

_Dearest Nathaniel,_

_I am today celebrating the life of Alexander Graham Bell and his wonderful invention. What would we do without our phone calls, eh? Though they make me miss you even more, those few minutes hearing your voice are like oxygen to me._

_When we spoke last night, I forgot to mention that Rosie and I had dinner a couple of nights ago with George and Elaine Taylor. Do you remember them? They live a few doors down from where your son and daughter-in-law used to live. George is a great storyteller, and he had us in stitches the whole evening. I can’t remember when I’ve laughed so hard._

_And speaking of Rosie, she has been hankering the past few days for blueberries to do some baking, so I made an excuse to leave the house this morning and went to pick blueberries for her in Southwest Harbor. She was over the moon when I presented her with them and immediately set to work making her famous blueberry buckle. She knows it’s my weakness and that I can’t stay out of it before it cools, so she banned me from the kitchen until it was ready to eat. It was quite unfair, but the end result was worth the wait. I have no doubt that her buckle would win any baking competition anywhere, and it made me happy to be able to surprise her._

_And now, my dearest, I’m afraid I must wrap this up. It’s getting late, and I want to get this letter in the morning mail. As always, I am counting the days until we will be together again._

_All my love,_

_A~_

There are two letters left, and when the last one has been read, he puts the rubberband back around the stack and tosses them on the end table. Glancing at his watch, he sees it’s close to midnight. He rubs at his eyes as he heads to bed, knowing that sleep will not come easy tonight. 

****

*********

He finds Armie the next morning before he heads out for the day and asks for the rest of the letters. The look Armie gives him as he hands over the box is full of concern, and Tim does his best to offer a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. I’m fine. But you’re right. I just need some time alone to plow through these. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to talk again.”

The stack of letters Armie had given him the night before had been randomly pulled, so they had jumped around in time. But the letters in this box have been kept in date order, and it makes sense to read them that way. The first one is dated August 17, 1997, and the final one, October 3, 2013, just a month before André passed. 

It takes several hours, but he manages to get through them all that first day. It’s a wildy emotional journey, and there’s a lot to take in and process. 

The vast majority of the letters are fairly innocuous; relating day to day activities, discussing current events, offering opinions on books they have each read or recommended to the other. Tim and Pauline are mentioned numerous times with pride and affection, either highlighting their accomplishments or sharing anecdotes from their visits. 

There are also hints of lively ongoing discussions between the two men on a variety of topics. His grandfather was intelligent, well-read, and held strong opinions on certain subjects, and all of that comes through clearly in his words to Nathaniel. 

The letters leave no doubt that André loved Nathaniel deeply, and the relationship they shared was rare and genuinely beautiful. But much to Tim’s relief, it’s also crystal clear that André never stopped loving Paulette, and his grief over her loss is glaring in the lengthy gap between letters when she first became ill, and for several months after she passed. 

André’s early mentions of her were always casual and affectionate, but when the letters finally resume after her death, with one notable exception, she is rarely mentioned, and for a time, the tone of them is much more somber.

Then, about a year and a half after his grandmother’s death the tone lightens again with a very confusing letter that is certainly the most significant of them all. Among other things, it hints at some big happening in their lives, but it’s never directly spelled out. After that one, there are less than a dozen letters over the course of the next two years, before André passed, and they’re all fairly trivial. Which leads to the conclusion that either their relationship slacked off, which seems very unlikely, or they were communicating almost exclusively via other means.

On the whole, the letters have eased his concerns and answered a few of his questions, but he finds himself wishing, again, that André had talked with him about his relationship with Nathaniel. He would have welcomed that opportunity for such an intensely personal ‘heart to heart.’ 

As he’s worked his way through the box, he’s set aside letters that he wants to reread, and he ends up with about twenty or so in that stack. Two in particular are very interesting, and he’s now anxious to speak with Armie again so that they can compare notes. 

He makes plans with Armie the next morning to meet after dinner that evening. The day drags, but Armie, it seems, is just as anxious to talk as Tim, because he arrives about fifteen minutes early. When Tim opens the door, he’s met with an apologetic Armie. “Hi. I know I’m early, I’m sorry. It’s just...I’ve been waiting all day, and I’ve been worried and wondering how you are doing...and…I can go and come back if you want.”

Tim laughs as he steps aside for Armie to enter. “Armie, relax, it's all good. I’ve been anxious to talk to you too. He leads the way to the living room where he offers up the scotch. They clink glasses, each taking a sip. As Tim sets his glass down, he shakes his head, smiling up at Armie. “Man, I gotta tell you that those letters were actually such a wonderful gift. Grandpa’s voice is so clear in them, it was almost like having him back again for a while, so I sincerely thank you for sharing them with me. I hope that we can find Nathaniel’s letters, so that you can have that experience too.”

“Yeah, that’d be great. I hope so too. But regardless, I’m just glad that you’re okay with everything.”

“Honestly, the love and connection between our grandfathers that comes through is...astonishing. It’s such a deep and intimate bond. Something that feels really rare. It makes me genuinely happy, and I’m really glad that they found each other. And even though I still don’t know for sure if my grandmother knew about their relationship, I now have no doubts that the love my grandparents shared stayed strong until the end.”

Armie nods. “Like I said, I didn’t know them, so I didn’t want to offer an opinion before you had a chance to read the letters, but that certainly seemed obvious to me as well.”

“I’m glad.” He turns and picks up the letters that he wants to discuss. “As I read, I pulled out a few that I wanted to reread, but these two…” He holds them up for Armie to see. “...definitely stood out and I’m dying to get your thoughts on them.” 

Armie smiles as he takes a sip of his drink. “I’m pretty sure I know which two you have there.” 

Tim smiles. “Yeah, I imagine you do.” He selects the letter that André wrote about a year after his grandmother’s death, passing it to Armie. “Will you read it out loud?”

Armie nods as he opens the letter and begins to read.

_Nathaniel,_

_As you know, it’s been difficult for me to talk about Rosie since her death, but I had a dream last night that I must share with you. I want it documented in writing, but we shall most certainly discuss it in depth next time we speak._

_In my dream, Rosie and I are at our favorite spot at the top of Cadillac Mountain. She’s painting, but what’s on her canvas is completely unrelated to the vista before us. She’s working on a mostly complete painting of Pemaquid Point Lighthouse, and the perspective is as though she is standing on the rock outcropping, looking back up at the lighthouse. The sun angle suggests that it’s midday, I sense it’s around noon, and I somehow know that the tide is coming in rather than going out._

_We share casual conversation as she paints, and I watch with interest as she brings two characters in the foreground to life. They are two men, one slightly taller and stockier than the other. We see only their backs and the slight profile of one as they stand looking out over the water, each with one arm tightly wrapped around the other. Their heads are close, as though they have been caught in mid-confidence. Though these men are clearly younger than we are now, there’s enough there for me to speculate that she has painted you and me._

_When I ask her about it, she laughs. “You know very well what I’m painting, Jack. Don’t pretend that you don’t. Though I never held it against you, I never completely understood the importance and the complexity of your relationship, but I do now. What’s past is prologue. It’s what’s meant to be.”_

_She stops painting and turns to me, suddenly serious. “You have important unfinished business...you and Nathaniel. You must see it through, and you have my blessing. I will always love you, and I know that you loved me. But now you need to let me go, my dear, and just get on with it.”_

_And that’s it. That’s when I woke up. I don’t think I need to tell you that the weekend you and I spent together in Bristol is one of my most treasured memories. But also, as you know, I never burdened Rosie with any specifics of our relationship, so she wouldn’t have known that place had special meaning for us. So why was she painting that particular lighthouse? Of course, it was just a dream, but the location feels significant somehow._

_Anyway, my dearest, please call me once you have read this, and we can discuss it. By then I will have had more time to digest it all, and I will have more thoughts to share._

_Yours, as always,_

_A~_

When Armie finishes reading, they are both silent for a time, each lost in their own thoughts. Tim has been listening with his eyes closed, trying to visualize the scene André describes. He’s been to Bristol a couple of times, and he’s familiar with the lighthouse and the nearby rock outcropping, but this painting seems to be so much more than one of her typical landscapes. And her words were cryptic as hell.

He’s always found dreams and their psychological significance interesting, but ever since his vivid dream about Armie, he’s spent more time wondering about whether dreams might sometimes be a way for our subconscious mind to communicate things to our conscious mind. Telling us things that on some level, we already know? And might they sometimes prophesy the future? Assuming both of those things are possible, what the fuck was André’s subconscious trying to tell him, and what did his grandmother’s little speech mean? 

His thoughts are interrupted when Armie speaks. “It’s been a while since I’ve read that. I seem to recall that there was a bit of a gap after this letter, and when they picked back up, this dream is never mentioned again.”

“Yeah, I searched all the letters around it to be sure I wasn’t missing something, but you’re right. They must have talked through it thoroughly, and it was never written about again.”

Armie scratches the back of his neck. “Do you think, in that last paragraph, that André’s saying that Paulette knew about our grandfathers’ relationship, but not specific details, or that she didn’t know at all?” 

“To me, it kinda sounds like she knew about them, but he didn’t share details with her? Fuck, I’d give anything to know for sure.” 

“Yeah, I got the feeling, too, that she knew...just not details. Now here’s another question. Do you think that painting exists?”

That’s something he hadn’t thought about. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible. I can’t imagine that she wouldn’t have painted Pemaquid Lighthouse at some point because it’s such a landmark. But I know she never put people in her paintings. She only did landscapes. Maybe André had seen a painting she did of Pemaquid and translated it into this in his dream?”

Armie takes a sip of his scotch. “Maybe. There’s a hell of a lot of layers to all of this.” 

Tim laughs. “No shit, and we’ve barely scratched the surface.” He shakes his head. “But let’s come back to that and move on to this one, which is...interesting, to say the least. And more than a little embarrassing and...just fucking weird.” He shakes his head as he hands Armie the other envelope. 

This letter was written several months after the one about André’s dream, and out of all of the letters in the box, it’s definitely the most significant. It specifically mentions Armie and Timmy, but there’s much more to it than that.

 _My dearest,_

_I sometimes wonder what life would have been like if you and I had never met. Simpler no doubt, but definitely incomplete. Life without the immense joy you and I have found together just doesn’t bear thinking about. And how strange is it that at this point in our lives, we are preparing to embark on yet another new adventure? I never dreamed that I could be so spontaneous and daring, but I can honestly say, I have absolutely no reservations. We have to follow our hearts..and our dreams. And our dreams have been surprisingly clear from the very beginning, have they not?_

_I find that I can barely contain my excitement, and I cannot wait for your arrival next week. We have much to do and many details to sort out on ‘both’ projects. I admit that I’ve been wondering if our boys might be annoyed with us for our interference in their lives, but I hope they will understand that our actions have been entirely motivated by love. And I’m sure they will forgive us when they finally figure things out and realize that we were right all along. How I wish we could be flies on the wall when they do!_

_I shall be counting the hours until I see you, my love, but until then... as always, I will see you in my dreams._

_A~_

Again, they both take a minute to work through their reactions. This time, it’s Tim who breaks the silence. “Do you think they actually got married? I mean, that’s what it sounds like, right?”

“I agree, it sounds like that, but don’t you think we would have known if they had? Especially when each of their estates were settled. I can only speak to what I know of my family’s situation, but there was nothing unusual or unexpected in Nathaniel’s will.” 

Tim shakes his head. “There was nothing odd about André’s estate either. No mention of anyone but family in his will.”

“Nathaniel travelled quite often, and we now know that most of the time he was coming here, but he was usually only gone a couple of weeks at a time. If they actually did get married, they never lived together.” 

Tim nods as he takes a sip of his drink. “And something else that puzzles me is why is this letter so different from the others? Why were they so vague about everything if this was a letter just between them? It’s almost as if it was written knowing that we would be reading it at some point...like they were deliberately dropping hints for us.”

“Yeah, I agree. And André pretty much admits that I was sent here so that you and I would meet.” 

Tim feels his cheeks warm. “Which is fucking embarrassing, don’t you think? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad we’ve met… _really_ glad, but it was damn presumptuous of them to think that we would be okay with that.”

Armie smiles. “Is this the part where we get ‘annoyed’ that they interfered in our lives?” 

Tim can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

“Look, there’s clearly more to talk about here, but we’ve got time for that later. I think we could do with a change of subject, so how would you like to hear about when we met as kids?”

Tim grins. “Yeah, I’d very much like to hear about that.” 

“Well, not only did you and I meet years ago, but you also met my grandfather.” 

"I did? Wow. I wish I could remember."

“Maybe this will jog your memory.” Armie pulls a picture out of the envelope he had brought with him and hands it to Tim.

The instant he sees the picture, memories of that day come rushing back to him. He had been eight or nine that summer. On that particular afternoon, he and a couple of neighborhood kids had decided to kick a soccer ball around in the school playground that was a couple of blocks from his grandparents’ house. He had stupidly brought his current favorite action toy along and had stuffed it in his pocket when they started playing. When the other boys had to leave, he’d realized that the figure was no longer in his pocket. Heartbroken, he’d spent the next twenty minutes searching the ground for it, but no luck. The tears had begun just as an older boy and an old man had walked by.

They saw his distress, and the boy had asked what was wrong. Embarrassed to by crying over something so stupid, Tim had hesitated, but the boy had been kind and encouraging, and so Tim had explained what had happened.

“Oh man, that sucks. What figure is it?” 

“It’s a figma Yami Yugi.”

“Oh, wow...that’s a cool one. I like Yugioh too. We can help you look, can’t we Grandpa?”

The old man had smiled kindly. “Of course.” 

As they searched, the old man spoke to him. “You’re André’s grandson, Timmy, aren’t you?” When Tim had nodded, the man introduced himself and his grandson and explained that he was a friend of Tim’s grandfather. A few minutes later, the boy had whooped and triumphantly held up Tim’s toy with a big smile on his face. They had walked Tim back to his grandparents’ house and had stopped in to say hello. That would have been one of the times Armie remembered being here. 

Tim had forgotten that Nathaniel had taken a picture before they’d left the playground. Studying it now, he sees that the moment Nathaniel captured shows Tim grasping his rescued toy tightly in his hand. Armie has his arm around Tim, but the remarkable thing about the picture is the fact that neither of the boys are looking at the camera. They are looking at each other, both grinning like loons. 

Jesus...how many more of these ‘unexpected connections’ are there going to be? Heart racing, he looks up and meets Armie’s eye. “Fuck. That was _you_?” 

Armie smiles and nods. “Yeah. I wondered if you’d remember.”

“I do. I mean, I haven’t thought about it in years, but...holy shit. I can’t believe that was you. And why didn’t I recognize you?” 

“Well, it would have been at least...what? Fifteen years ago?”

“Yeah, a little more than that. I remember your grandfather told me your names, but I had forgotten them almost immediately. I mean, I was just a kid, and I figured I’d never see you again anyway. But now I know why your name sounded sort of familiar when I read your first email.” 

Armie shakes his head. “This is all pretty fucking weird, isn’t it?”

Tim laughs. “Yeah, I’d say that’s the understatement of the century.” He pauses, thinking about how to express what’s on his mind. “We have a lot to talk about, but I just want to say that you were really kind to me that day. I’m sure I said thank you at the time, but it meant a lot to me. And I never forgot. I just hadn’t thought about that day in a long time.”

“Same for me. When my grandfather showed this picture to me, I remembered immediately, but it wasn’t something that stuck with me in a significant way, you know?”

A thought occurs to Tim as he nods in agreement. “I’ll be right back.” He knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for in his bedroom, and he returns quickly, holding one hand behind his back. Sitting back down next to Armie again, he draws his hand out and opens it to reveal the Yugioh toy.

Armie’s jaw drops as he takes the toy from Tim. “Oh my god, you still have it?”

Tim smiles. “It might actually be worth some money now, but after that day, it...became more important to me. Even when I outgrew all of this kind of stuff, I couldn’t part with this.”

Armie examines the toy, grinning, before handing it back to Tim. “It’s so strange to think that not only did you and I meet all those years ago, but also that you met Nathaniel. I met André two or three times, I think. I remember that he laughed a lot, and he was very nice to me, but that’s about it. I wish I remembered more.” 

“And the only thing I remember about Nathaniel is that he was soft-spoken and had a comforting smile. But that’s more than I knew a few minutes ago.” Tim sets the toy aside and turns back to Armie. “I’ve been debating whether or not to say anything, but at this point, it feels like I have to. You’ll probably think this is ridiculous, and I honestly don’t think it has anything to do with us meeting as kids, or with the meddling of our grandfathers, but when you walked through the door here for the first time the other day, I felt like I already _knew_ you. Like there was some sort of connection between us that’s unrelated to André and Nathaniel. I know that sounds crazy, but the feeling was really overwhelming.” 

“No! It’s _not_ crazy. I know exactly what you mean, because I felt it too.”

“You did?”

Armie laughs. “I did, yeah. It was so weird. I’ve never experienced anything like that before. I mean, I had seen that picture of us as kids, so I sort of knew what you might look like, but it was more than just recognizing you.” He pauses, seeming to search for the right words. “It was like a _deep_ recognition, you know? More of a reconnecting than sort of remembering what you looked like.” He shakes his head, clearly frustrated. “Fuck, I’m not explaining this very well.”

Just as Tim is about to interject that he totally gets what Armie is saying, his phone rings, interrupting them. “Damn..sorry.” He glances at the caller ID, seeing Karen’s name, which is odd for this time of night. He reaches out without thought, placing his hand on Armie’s arm. “I’m sorry, but I need to take this." 

“Of course. Do you want me to leave?” 

He shakes his head, mouthing ‘no,’ as he swipes and brings the phone to his ear. "Hey, Karen. Is everything okay?" 

_"Tim, hi. Well, yes and no. She's fine now, I think, but my mother tripped and fell this evening, and she hit her head pretty hard when she went down. They want to keep her in the hospital overnight just to be sure she doesn't have a concussion, so unfortunately, that means that I'll need to be there for her first thing in the morning."_

"God, I'm so sorry. I hope she's okay. Of course you need to be there, and don't worry about anything here. I'm perfectly capable of feeding our guests for one morning."

_"I'm really sorry, Tim. I tried to find someone to fill in, but no luck. I was planning on omelettes tomorrow, and I have all the prep done. I can come over tonight and talk you through it all if you'd like."_

"Not necessary. I'll be fine. I'll go check things out now, and if I have any questions, I'll give you a quick call. Otherwise, don't give it another thought. Just check in sometime tomorrow and let me know how she's doing, okay?"

_I will. Thank you, sweetie. Rachel will be there for her regular shift, and if you need her earlier for any reason, let me know._

"Her regular shift is fine. Hey, this will be good for me. Give me a chance to stretch my culinary muscles."

He hears Karen laugh. _"Yeah, okay. You’ll find all the additions for the omelettes in individual containers in the fridge, and there are bangers thawed and ready to go. There’s also a selection of fresh fruit. Just please, for the love of God, don't undercook the sausages. You don't want to deal with the lawsuits if you give everyone trichinosis._

Now it's Tim's turn to laugh as he places his hand over his heart. "I'm mortally wounded. I’ve got this, okay? Seriously, I'll make you proud. If not, I'll make sure everyone knows it was me that fucked up. Give your mom a hug for me, and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

_"You really are the best boss in the world. I'll make it up to you, I promise."_

"Deal. How about a batch of those amazing blueberry chocolate chip cookies of yours?"

_"You got it. Thanks, Tim, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Good night."_

"'night, Karen."

When he hangs up, he shakes his head. "Fuck."

"What's going on?"

He quickly fills Armie in on the situation. "Sorry, to bail on you, especially right now, but I've got to go figure out what the hell I'm going to do in the morning. I didn't want to say anything to Karen, but I'm afraid my breakfast skills pretty much amount to overcooked scrambled eggs and burnt toast. I have absolutely _no_ idea what the safe internal temp for sausages is."

"About 160°." He grins at Tim. "Well, I guess this is your lucky day then, my childhood friend, because it just so happens that my breakfasts have been known to make even the grumpiest bastards smile. I'll be more than happy to save your ass."

Tim stares at him in shock. "What?"

Armie smirks in return. "Yeah, I don't like to brag, but point me toward the kitchen."

Tim laughs and shakes his head. "Fuck, you better not be joking." He leads the way to the kitchen and when he tells Armie that Karen had been planning omelettes, he's surprised to see Armie happily throw his hands up in the air and do a little dance.

"Oh, yeah. Are you a gambling man, Mr. Chalamet? Because what are the odds that omelettes just happen to be my breakfast specialty?" He sobers, turning to face Tim. “Look, we’ve clearly got a lot of things to discuss, and some important...stuff to sort out between us, but we can get back to that later tomorrow. Right now, you’ve got a job to do, and I’m really happy I can help.”

“Yeah. Thank you. I definitely want to continue that discussion...especially the important _stuff_ part.”

Armie grins at him. “Good. Me too. So let's get breakfast figured out.” 

They spend the next half hour familiarizing themselves with the kitchen and the ingredients Karen had organized for morning. Armie seems thrilled to find cheese, spinach, tomatoes, green onions, and mushrooms for the omelettes. There are sausages, of course, and after perusing the fruit, Armie offers a couple of suggestions for finishing the plates.

By the time they have it all sorted out, Tim is grinning from ear to ear. "Fuck, you are a total lifesaver, man. Seriously. We're full tonight, which means a potential for serving seventeen. Sometimes people opt out, but no one has contacted me yet, and that's what we should plan on."

"No problem. That should be fine. With breakfast starting at eight, if we're down here by seven, that should give us plenty of time to get things organized."

"Okay, sounds good. Karen's daughter, Rachel, comes in at 7:30, and she takes care of getting the dining room set up, and getting the cereal and other lightweight stuff for the sideboard laid out and ready to go. Man, I'm gonna owe you big time for this. Consider the rest of your stay comp'd." 

"Honestly, I'm genuinely happy to help, and no way am I gonna let you do that. We’re sort of a team at this point, and besides, I love to cook, and this is just a fun, unexpected challenge."

"Well, this is worth a lot to me, so we'll discuss repayment later, but for now, I think it's time to say goodnight. We'll need to be sharp in the morning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? I'd be very interested to hear what, if anything, surprised you about this chapter, or what stood out the most to you! Thank you for your continued support. My readers are the best! ❤️


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little light and fluffy interlude...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're already on Chapter 8! I appreciate all of you that are reading, kudo'ing, and commenting _so_ much! And I probably sound like a broken record here, but I am so grateful for KendylGirl. She is the best! ❤️

Tim stumbles into the kitchen around 6:45, hoping to get a quiet cup of coffee in before Armie shows up, but Armie is already there, laying the sausages out in a pan. He's got his phone hooked up to a small Bluetooth speaker, and he's blasting tunes, humming along, far more cheerful than anyone has a right to be at this time of the morning.

Armie looks up with a smile as Tim shuffles in. "Hey, good morning! Looks like a perfect day out there. I'm excited to get this show on the road."

Tim gives him a nod and half-hearted smile as he makes a beeline for the coffee pot. When he's got a steaming cup in his hand, and he's had a couple of sips, he finds his voice.

"Why am I not surprised that you're a morning person." 

Armie grins as he holds up the tongs he's using to handle the sausages, using them as an improvised microphone as he sings along to the current song. "We've got to hold on to what we've got. It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not. We've got each other and that's a lot for love. We'll give it a shot."

Tim grins back and can't resist joining in on the chorus, picking up a serving spoon from the counter for his mic. "Whoa, we're halfway there. Whoa, livin' on a prayer. Take my hand, we'll make it I swear. Whoa, livin' on a prayer."

They both struggle with the words for the next part, so they mumble a bit and then stop altogether, smiling broadly at each other. Tim's heart does a little flutter at the surprisingly fond look in Armie's eyes. Fuck, he's totally gone for this guy.

Armie is the first to speak. "Not bad. I'd say if our day jobs fall through, we’ve got a decent career on the road."

"Totally. Always wanted to be a rock star."

"Livin' the rock star life."

"Just call me Little Timmy Tim." He takes another sip of his coffee. "Listen, man, all joking aside, I can't thank you enough for saving my bacon this morning." He chuckles, as he nods towards the sausages Armie is working with. "Or in this case, my sausage." As he realizes what he's just said, his cheeks color instantly. "Fuck, that didn't come out at all the way I meant it."

Armie is laughing at him now. "Maybe not, but seeing you turn several shades of red has more than made my morning."

"Well, that'll teach me to try and have a conversation before I've had at least two cups of coffee." He moves to the coffee pot to top off his mug. 

"And, you're very welcome. I told you, I love to cook, and to be able to cook breakfast for this many people is amazing."

"Good. So, you've got a ready, willing, and marginally able sous chef at your service. Tell me what to do, and I'm on it."

Armie nods toward the fruit on the counter. "I'd like to have a couple of small slices of cantaloupe, a couple of strawberries, and a few blueberries on every plate, so you can start by stemming the strawberries and getting the cantaloupe ready to slice. When you get that far, I'll show you how I'd like the cantaloupe sliced." 

Tim smiles and salutes. "Yes, chef."

When Tim's finished with the prep work, Armie demonstrates exactly how thin he wants the cantaloupe sliced, and then he shows Tim how the fruit should be arranged on the plates before serving."

Tim practices a couple as Armie looks on, giving a nod of approval.

"Yeah, you got it." 

"Wow, I had no idea so much effort goes into making it all look nice on the plate."

"Dude, presentation is every bit as important as the quality of the food. You have to tempt the eye as well as the palate.” 

"That makes sense I guess. Okay, I'll get this cantaloupe sliced, and then throw everything back in the fridge until we need it."

While Armie focuses on prep for the omelettes, Tim chops a bit of fresh parsley for garnish on the omelettes, and slices the bread for toast. By the time Rachel arrives, everything is pretty much ready to go.

"Hey, Rachel. How's your grandma?" 

Rachel looks from Tim to Armie, and back to Tim again, as she answers. "She's doing okay, I think. It’s Mom who’s freaking out. Of course she’s worried about Grandma, but mostly about not being here this morning. It's not like she doesn't trust you, but she keeps saying that she feels bad for putting you in this position, and that it takes a lot of practice to get everything to come out at the same time.”

She stops briefly, looking around the kitchen. “But it smells great in here, and it looks like you've got things under control."

"We do. Or, I should say...Armie does. I know you guys have seen each other every day, but you haven't been properly introduced, so Rachel, meet Armie."

Rachel blushes as she shakes hands with Armie. Clearly the man's stunning good looks are not lost on her.

"Nice to actually meet you, sir."

"Hey, no ‘sir’ allowed. That makes me feel ancient. It's Armie, please. We're all a team this morning."

"Okay, Armie." She blushes some more, and she seems to be studying him. "I should, um, probably get started on my stuff now."

As she moves toward the dining room, Tim calls after her. "Hey, Rach, when you get a minute, can you text your mom and make sure she knows that we’re doing fine here?"

She smiles and nods. "Sure, no problem."

As the guests begin to filter into the dining room, Tim starts to panic, but Rachel is always great with the guests, and she's a pro at relaying information to the kitchen, so as the first plates go out and the guests seem happy, he starts to relax. 

Ten minutes later, they get a mini-rush, but once again, Armie's skill in the kitchen and Rachel's natural rapport with people seem to be saving the day. As she brings the first empty plates back into the kitchen, she's got a big smile on her face. "The older couple in Paulette’s Room send their compliments to the chef. They said everything was excellent."

Armie and Tim grin at each other, and Tim steps forward to high-five Armie. "Man, seriously, I owe you so much for this."

Armie starts to deprecate, but before they can get into the whole payment conversation again, Rachel interrupts with a smile. "Guys, we've still got a lot of people to serve. Right now, I need two more omelettes. One with everything, one without mushroom, both with sausage and white toast."

Tim feels his face flush slightly. "Yeah, right. Sorry." He turns to look at Armie. “Did you get that?”

Armie grins as he turns back to the stove. “Got it, and I’m on it.”

Tim plates the toast and the fruit and carries them over for Armie to dish the omelettes. They are working pretty well together, but they haven't totally sorted out whose job it is to get the sausages from the warming tray. As a result, they bend down at the same time and end up cracking their heads together.

"Ow! Fuck." Tim reaches his hand up to rub his temple at the point of contact. He's not seeing stars, but damn, that really hurt. Still, he can't help but chuckle. "Jesus, you weren't kidding about your hard head."

"God, Tim, I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Armie looks stricken, his hands immediately are all over Tim's head and face. Fuck, if this is the payoff for a slight headache, he'll take it any day. 

"Yeah, no worries. I'm fine. What about you?"

Armie, hands now latched onto Tim's shoulders, smiles. "Head like an anvil...remember?" 

Tim's turn to smile. "Yeah, right. Good." They lock eyes, and the air between them suddenly feels charged. Neither makes a move to separate and the way Armie is looking at him makes his heart soar. 

Armie moves a hand up to Tim's face, stroking his thumb across his cheek. Tim's emotions are all over the place, and he's struggling to breathe. 

Armie pauses, studying his face. "Tim, if I'm misreading this..."

Eyes glued to Armie's, he pours everything he's feeling into his gaze as he shakes his head emphatically. Without a conscious thought, he realizes that his left hand is clutching at Armie's waist, attempting to pull him closer. "You're not." His other hand quietly snakes around Armie's neck, this time very deliberately. "You're definitely not."

Armie grins as he steps forward, an unmistakable look of longing in his eyes. "I'm very glad to hear that." Tim feels Armie's other hand cup his face, as he leans down. His breath catches, his eyes close, and just as their lips are about to come together, Rachel bangs through the swinging door with more empty plates.

She stops dead, eyes fully on them, and her casual smile suddenly turns into a look of total surprise. By the time they manage to react and pull apart, she's smiling again, moving to stack the empty plates she's carrying beside the sink.

"More satisfied customers. Are the next ones ready?"

Words tumble from Tim's mouth. He has no idea what he's even saying. He laughs. "Yeah, so, um, we both bent down to get the sausage pan out of the warmer at the same time, and, uh, we banged our heads together. He was just making sure I wasn't hurt. So...yeah, everything’s ready, we just need to add the sausages."

They trade embarrassed smiles while Rachel pretends not to notice. 

Armie clears his throat. "Okay, Tim, so how about from now on, _you're_ on sausage duty."

Tim salutes again with a grin. "Yes, chef."

He pulls the pan out, adds the sausages to the plates, and Armie hands them off. "Rachel, your left hand is the 'no mushroom.'"

"Okay. And I've got another order. I need one plain cheese omelette, with sausage and wheat toast." 

Armie smiles at her, acknowledging the order. "Cheese only, sausage and wheat. Got it." She gives them both a broad grin and another nod before turning and heading back into the dining room.

Tim shakes his head, laughing. "Something tells me, she didn't totally buy that."

"Well, she'd be right, I hope."

"Yeah, she would, but clearly we need to work on our timing."

"Agreed. So how about we focus on getting the rest of the guests fed, and we can come back to...uh, whatever that was, when we’ve gotten through this. 

Tim laughs as he throws the wheat bread in the toaster. “Agreed. But, yeah, I definitely want to come back to...whatever that was.”

By the time nine o'clock rolls around, they've served fifteen, and everyone had seemed happy. Tim lets out a relieved sigh and offers up a 'thank fuck' to the cosmos, as well as a huge thank you to Armie. “Man, I can’t even begin to thank you for this. I’m not sure what random luck of the universe sent you here at this particular time, but I’m truly grateful...seriously.”

Armie smiles at him. “Look, I already told you, I love doing this sort of thing. Cooking for a bunch of people is the best. This was really fun and super satisfying, so let’s just call it even.”

"Even? No fucking way. I’m going to owe you forever. But maybe I can start to pay you back by fixing dinner for you tonight? That is, if you don't have anything else planned?” Tim holds his breath, steeling himself for Armie to turn him down.

Armie hesitates, and Tim’s heart sinks as he quickly gives the man an out. “I mean, fuck, don’t feel like you have to say yes. I don’t want to impose on your time here any more than I already have. Sorry, I’m sure you have stuff you’d rather do.”

Armie quickly reaches out, placing his hand on Tim’s shoulder, his expression clearly apologetic. “No...I mean...yes, I'd really like that, but I didn’t want you to feel obligated. I got the feeling that you didn’t actually enjoy cooking."

Ah, okay, that explains the hesitation. He smiles with relief. "Well, obviously, breakfast isn't my strong suit, though I probably could have pulled this off with scrambled eggs and bacon for everyone, but I’m actually not a bad cook. I even have a few specialties I’m rather proud of.

Armie grins, seeming more at ease again. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Tim assumes an artificial smug demeanor. “How about I answer that by impressing you with one for dinner tonight?”

“You’re on, Mr. Chalamet. Shall I bring red or white wine?”

“Neither. I've got it all covered. So is there anything you really hate food-wise?”

Armie laughs. “It’s probably not a good thing, but honestly I’m a fan of pretty much _all_ food. I guess the only thing I can think of that might be a ‘no-go’ for me would be rutabagas. And maybe I just had a bad experience, but I'm just being honest since you asked.”

Tim can’t help but laugh. “Okay. Well, since I have no idea what they are or how to cook them, I think you’re safe. No rutabagas on the menu...promise.”

Armie laughs too. “Thank God for that. So, I shall look forward to an amazing non-rutabaga meal. What time should I be there?”

“Seven?”

“Perfect. And I promise not to be early.”

They take a step towards each other, and once again, Rachel chooses that moment to bang through the door with a tray full of dirty dishes, heading for the sink. She’s focused on her destination, but it seems to Tim like she’s pretended not to notice that she’s interrupted once again. As she sets the tray down, she turns to them with a grin. “Well, guys, I’d say that was a success. Armie, you did great! Timmy’s really lucky you were here and willing to help out.”

Tim gives her an aggrieved look. “Gee, Rach, thanks for the less than enthusiastic vote of confidence.”

“Oh, stop being a baby. I’m sure you would have been fine. All I’m saying is, Armie gave us much better than fine. Now, I’m going to get the rest of the stuff brought in from the dining room, but I’m absolutely starving. When I’m finished, Armie, any chance you can make me one of your omelettes with everything?”

“You got it. Tim, what about you? How would you like your omelette?”

His stomach growls. “Ooh, everything, please. I’ll help Rachel, and we can get to our breakfast that much faster.”

Just as Armie is getting ready to start the omelettes for the other two, the outside door opens and Karen walks in, looking more than a little frazzled.

“Tim, I’m so sorry. Rachel texted that things were under control, but I have some things to get ready for tomorrow, and at least I can do the breakfast clean up.”

Tim’s surprised to see her. “Karen, what are you doing here? You should be home with your mom.”

She smiles, but it looks forced. “No, she’s doing fine. She’s home from the hospital and resting comfortably. My neighbor offered to stay with her for a couple of hours so that I could come in.”

Tim shakes his head in frustration. “You know how much I appreciate you, but this place doesn’t always have to be your first priority, and it shouldn’t be. We did fine, thanks to Armie, our chef extraordinaire.” He pauses. “Sorry, you guys probably haven’t even met. “Karen Higgins, meet Armie Hammer. We...happened to be chatting last night when you called, and he volunteered to help out. Armie’s the one staying in that third floor room for a couple of weeks, doing research for a book he’s writing.”

“Oh, that’s right.” She turns to Armie with a smile. “Tim told me you were coming.” She reaches out to shake hands. “It’s nice to meet you, Armie. Thank you so much for stepping in this morning. Rachel said your omelettes were a hit.”

Armie smiles warmly as he returns her handshake. “Well, you already had everything organized. All I had to do was cook. And speaking of cooking, I was just getting ready to feed these guys. I’m betting you haven’t eaten, so what would you like in your omelette?”

“Oh, good heavens, you don’t have to cook for me.”

“Seriously, it would be my pleasure. I’ve been enjoying your amazing breakfasts for the past few days, and I would love to return the favor. So, what would you like in your omelette?”

Tim sees Karen hesitate, so he moves forward, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Hey, take a breath, okay? This guy really likes feeding people, so let him do it.” He leads her to the small table in the kitchen. “Now sit, and let me get you a cup of coffee.” 

Rachel chimes in as well. “Yeah, Mom, sit. For once let someone else cook for you. You won’t be disappointed.” She turns to Armie as she adds, “She’ll have everything too, but with wheat toast.”

Armie looks to Karen for confirmation, and when she smiles and nods, he smiles back. “Perfect. I’m on it.”

It makes Tim unexpectedly happy that, over the course of their shared breakfast, Armie manages to completely charm both Rachel and her mom. He asks Rachel questions about her classes and what her passions are. She answers happily while she beams at him. And Armie and Karen quickly bond over food and a mutual love of cooking. Karen, who had been so stressed when she arrived, is soon laughing and blushing at Armie’s praise. She even offers to share her grandmother’s prized ginger snap recipe with him. 

“I’ll make you another batch before you leave, and if you’d like, you can help me make them so you can pick up any little tricks I don’t think to write on the recipe card.”

“Seriously? Yeah, that’d be _great,_ thank you!” 

“It’s the least I can do.” She takes another bite and gestures at Armie with her fork. “This omelette is absolutely delicious. There’s a different flavor here that really works, but I can’t quite identify it.”

Armie’s cheeks color slightly. “Yeah, I noticed that you had some fresh thyme in the fridge, so I added a bit of that, finely minced, to the egg mixture. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind! That’s brilliant. I never would have thought to add thyme to omelettes, but I’ll definitely be doing that from now on.” 

They eat in silence for a moment, before Armie addresses Karen again. “So, it’s Higgins, right? Is that your husband’s family name?”

Tim cringes slightly at that, but Karen seems unphased.

“No, it’s mine. When my husband and I divorced years ago, I went back to my maiden name.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. The only reason I’m asking is that I wandered through the Village Burial Ground yesterday, and every other tombstone was a Higgins! There’s even a Higgins cemetery. So you must have grown up on the island?”

“I did, yes. I grew up in Tremont, on the west side. And Higgins is definitely one of the more common names here. There are at least eight different branches of the family, and they were all very prolific. My family line traces back to Levi and his wife, Bathsheba, who came here in the late 1700’s. They had twelve children.”

“Wow. That’s so interesting. I’d love to sit down with you sometime and hear some of your stories. I’ve actually been thinking about using Higgins as a surname for one of the characters in the book I’m here to research. Even though it’s a work of fiction, I like to keep the details factual, and I’m sort of anal about keeping everything historically accurate.” 

“Well then, the place to start here is the Mount Desert Island Historical Museum. They’ve done a wonderful job of gathering old documents and various other artifacts, and they have a lot of information about the various families who settled here.”

Armie nods. “Yeah, I’ve actually spent the better part of the last couple of days there poring through their library. I’m sure Julia, their Research and Collections Coordinator, is already fed up with my constant questions and is more than ready to see the back of me.”

Tim chuckles to himself. Can’t blame her...Armie’s backside is a damn good view. _Jesus, Tim...stop. Focus._ “Yeah, Julia’s great, and she actually loves when people ask a lot of questions and are genuinely interested in the history of the island. I had a lot of research to do when I was in the midst of restoring this place, and I couldn’t have done it without her help.”

“No, you’re right. I was joking. She’s a fount of knowledge, and she’s very sweet. And, by the way, she certainly thinks very highly of you. She asked where I was staying, and when I told her, she couldn’t stop talking about you. In fact, I think she may have a little bit of a crush on you.”

Tim feels his cheeks heat up. “She does not.” 

Karen smiles and winks at him. “Well, if she does, she’s got good taste.” She looks down at her watch, standing abruptly. “Right. Guys, I can’t thank you enough for covering for me this morning, and Armie, thank _you_ for this wonderful breakfast, but now, I would really appreciate it if you would both get the heck out of my kitchen so I can get on with my morning. She starts stacking plates as she adds, “I’m planning baked French toast for tomorrow, and I have to make them today so that they can chill in the fridge overnight.” 

Armie stands, too, and tries to help. “At least let us clean up our mess.” 

Tim knows Karen well, and he can see that she’s veering on stressed again. He reaches out, resting a hand on Armie’s arm. “Armie, I know that look. Believe me, she’ll be much happier if we just get out of her hair.” He motions Armie towards the door. “Besides, Julia’s going to be wondering where you are.” He turns back to Karen. “Karen, I’m gonna hit the grocery store this morning. Do you think you could delegate your shopping to me today?”

Armie smiles and nods towards Karen, as though sharing a confidence. “I think you can trust him. He seems to know more about food than he lets on.”

Karen laughs. “You’re right, he does. And I do trust him. I’d really appreciate that, Tim, since I’m short on time today. Give me fifteen minutes to figure out what I need, and I’ll have a list for you.” 

“You got it.”

Tim shakes his head and chuckles as he and Armie make their way towards the foyer. “Well, I think at this point, you could ask Karen to make you the most complicated dish in the world, and she would happily attempt it for you. And Rachel...well, I won’t say she’s planning your wedding, but she’d clearly be happy to have your babies.”

Armie offers an embarrassed laugh as he shoves Tim. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Nothing. It’s just...Karen and Rachel are my family here, and it makes me happy to see you all getting along so well. That’s all.”

“Yeah?”

Tim smiles up at him. “Yeah.”

Armie nods as he smiles back. “I like them both a lot. They seem really great, and I can tell that they think the world of you. And that makes _me_ happy.” They’ve arrived at the bottom of the staircase. “So, tell me the truth. Do you _really_ want to cook tonight, or were you just being polite? We could always get take out.”

Tim feigns indignation. “What? No way. I _absolutely_ want to cook for you. I plan to sweep you off your feet with my culinary prowess.” He throws a chef’s kiss. “Prepare to have your taste buds dazzled, Monsieur Hammer.” 

He gets the laugh he was going for. 

“Haha! Okay, I’m looking forward to whatever you have planned.” He gives Tim a suggestive look as he lowers his voice and steps in closer, reaching out a hand to briefly stroke up and down Tim’s arm. “In fact, I’m very much looking forward to sampling a little of...everything you might be serving tonight.” 

Tim’s throat goes dry and he has trouble keeping his voice even. “Fuck. Yeah...that’s good. Me too. Very much.”

Armie laughs as he turns toward the stairs. “Good. Now, I better get myself organized and get out of here. Julia’s going to think I’ve thrown her over for someone else.”

Tim manages to get out a somewhat normal sounding, “Say ‘hi’ to her for me.”

Armie stops and looks back. “No, actually, I don’t think I will. I tend to be the jealous type, and I don’t want to encourage her.” Before Tim can respond, Armie has turned again, taking the stairs two at a time. He throws a ‘Later’ over his shoulder as he reaches the second floor. 

_Fuck..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are life to writers, so if you feel so inclined, I would be most grateful.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys move their relationship forward, and Rachel is...well, Rachel! 😉

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're up to Chapter 9! I'm so grateful for everyone who is continuing to read and comment. There's lots more to come. 
> 
> And KendylGirl...Mwah! 😘 Thank you...again! Maybe someday I won't need you to point out all of the places where I'm over-explaining! Also, thanks to a certain friend for offering input on the 'sex talk' section.

Tim is sitting at his computer responding to inquiries on the website. It’s a task that requires concentration, so thankfully, at least for the moment, he’s _not_ overthinking and freaking out about the evening ahead. In fact, he’s so focused on what he’s doing, he’s startled when he hears someone beside him clear their throat. 

He looks up to see Rachel standing there, hands behind her back, looking unusually hesitant. _Fuck._ Did what happened this morning upset her? He offers an uneasy smile. "Hey."

“Hey.” She smiles back. “You got a sec?”

“Sure. What’s up?” 

She walks around behind the counter and plops down in the chair next to him, fidgeting as she seems to struggle to express what's on her mind. "So, I just wanted to say, I'm sorry for interrupting you guys this morning."

"Rachel, don't be silly. I told you, we knocked heads and..."

She smirks and rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on. Give me at least a little credit please. There was _clearly_ more than that going on.”

Tim knows her well enough to know that there’s no point in trying to deny it, so he shrugs and nods in acknowledgement.

“Thank you. I mean, I've seen you guys interact a bit this past week, and...I’m not really sure how to explain it, but there’s just this...natural connection between you. It’s like you were made for each other, and I'm really happy for you, T. You deserve someone as nice and sweet as Armie.” 

She hesitates, but he can tell she has more to say, so he refrains from interrupting. “You know my dad left when I was just a kid, and other than my Uncle Max, I never really had much of a male presence in my life.” She looks a bit embarrassed as she adds, “When you first came here I was not quite fifteen, and I had this _massive_ crush on you. I'm sure you knew. I mean, young teens aren't exactly subtle, right? Anyway, I was devastated when my mom explained to me that you were gay.” 

She laughs. “But once I got over that, I started to think of you as a friend...or maybe more like the big brother I never had. You've been so good to my mom and me, and you’ve never treated me like a stupid kid. You’ve always listened to what I have to say, and you’ve given me a lot of good advice over the years.” She huffs out a breath. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I care about you, and I really want you to find someone who makes you happy every day, and I think Armie may just be that guy.” She looks away for a moment. “Sorry, hope that doesn't embarrass you."

He has to swallow before he can speak, reaching out to squeeze both of her hands briefly. "Thanks, Rach, that means a lot. And I hope you know that I feel the same way. You and your mom are like family to me, and I care very much about you guys too."

She nods, swiping at the treacherous moisture in her eyes.. “Yeah, I know.” She takes a deep breath, and offers up an impudent grin. "So...is he a good kisser?"

"Rachel!"

"What? He's hot! I mean, I know he's gay...and by the way, why are all the good ones gay?” She carries on, clearly not expecting an answer. “And I guess he’s a little too old for me, and besides that...he’s _totally_ into you, but I can still look and appreciate. So...is he?"

“Jesus, who are you and what have you done with the sweet, innocent girl I used to know?” Her gaze doesn’t falter as she crosses her arms and nods her head at him. He can't help but laugh, and he relents. "Okay. To be honest...I don't know."

Her mouth drops open. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"Is there an echo in here? I mean, _I don't know._ ” He feels his cheeks tinge. “This morning, when you...interrupted...that would have been the first time."

Her expression quickly transforms from shocked to exasperated. "Are you kidding me? Dang, no wonder you're still single! You know I love you, but seriously? I mean, the chemistry between you guys is off the charts. I figured you’d be doing a lot more than kissing by now." She pauses as though something has just occurred to her. "Oh god, now I'm doubly sorry for cockblocking."

“ _Cockblocking?_ ”

“Yeah, cockblocking. It means…”

“I _know_ what it means. I just never expected to hear that word come out of your mouth. When the hell did you grow up anyway?” 

She raises her eyebrows and smirks at him.

He shakes his head in response. “Okay, so it was obviously ‘wrong place, wrong time,’ but like I said, we bashed heads and he was worried that he'd hurt me, and one thing led to another, and...well, that's when you came into the kitchen."

"Fuck." She blushes. "Sorry. But since I'm now sort of invested in this budding relationship, when you finally get around to, you know...doing the deed, I better be the first one to hear about it.” 

"Rachel Marie!” He stands. “Right. This discussion is over. I’m appalled at your manners, young lady.” 

She lets out a huge laugh. "Geez, first of all, stop sounding like my mother. And second, don't freak out, Mr. Uptight! I was kidding...honestly. Did you really think I was serious? On the other hand, I _do_ think I deserve to hear how he measures up in the kissing department."

"Okay, that's it. I think we've more than reached the end of this conversation. Seriously, do I pay you to stand around and give me grief?” He makes a shooing motion with his hands, but she doesn’t move.

“Don’t you? My mistake.” She’s laughing now as she finally stands, and Tim can’t help joining in. 

She throws her arms around him and they share a quick hug before he schools his features into a stern look. “Those rooms aren’t going to clean themselves, so how about you get back to work?"

She gives him a salute and a big grin. "Yes, boss!" Turning on her heel, she starts to walk away. 

Before she gets too far, he calls after her, "Hey!"

She stops, looking back over her shoulder.

His smile is warm. "Thanks."

She smiles back, blowing a kiss before bouncing up the stairs. 

****

*****

Tim slides the oven rack out, lifting the lid on the Dutch Oven to peek at what’s inside. He pokes at the potatoes, finding them still a bit firm, but they’re getting there. As he shoves it back in the oven, he glances at the clock. Time to go change clothes.

He certainly doesn’t want to look like he’s trying too hard, but he also wants to look good. He finally settles on skinny black jeans and a gray pullover sweater with a couple of stripes on one arm. Perfect. But it needs one more thing. He digs in a drawer to find the simple gold chain necklace that completes the look. He does his best to sort out his unruly mop of hair.

Back in the kitchen, he checks the food again. Relieved that everything is now done, he turns the oven off to let it coast. Just as he finishes setting the table there’s a knock at the door. He takes a deep breath before he opens it.

“Hey, come on in. So, did Julia forgive you for being late this morning?”

Armie laughs as Tim closes the door behind him. “To be honest, I don’t think she even noticed. But I’m afraid it wasn’t a very productive day for me. For some reason, I had trouble concentrating.”

Tim’s heart lurches. “Really? I’m sorry to hear that.”

Armie gives him a teasing smile. “It’s fine. I guess I had other things on my mind.”

Tim feels warmth rising in his cheeks and he’s sure he must be blushing. “Well I guess we all have days like that.” He does his best to maintain his calm as he gestures towards a stool at the breakfast bar. “Sit and keep me company while I get things organized. Would you like a glass of wine?”

“Sure, if you’re having one.”

Tim nods and pulls two wine glasses out, filling them from the bottle of red he’d opened earlier, passing one to Armie. He holds his up in a toast. “To you. Seriously, I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am for your help this morning. Cheers.”

Armie clinks his glass with Tim’s. “Cheers. I know I keep saying this, but honestly, it was my pleasure. I’ve always enjoyed cooking for other people, and this was just a fun opportunity to do that.” He sets his glass down and sniffs the air. “And speaking of cooking for other people, there are definitely mouth-watering smells coming from your oven. Can I ask what we’re having?”

Tim grins as he sets a trivet on the counter in front of Armie. “How about if I show you?” He grabs the pot from the oven, setting it on the trivet. “Since it was cold and rainy out today, I thought a hearty meal was in order, so...” With a flourish, he lifts the lid off the Dutch Oven, filling the air with a tantalizing aroma. “We’re having braised lamb with rosemary, dilled roast potatoes, and garlic carrots. My mom always called this ‘four hour lamb,’ so I guess that’s what it is.” 

“Wow...I’m seriously impressed, and I’m starting to doubt that you couldn’t have handled breakfast this morning. This looks and smells amazing,” he pauses as he inspects the vegetables in the pot, “and not a rutabaga in sight.” 

Tim laughs. “Not a one.” He pulls the warmed plates from the oven. “So, I’m kind of intimidated to try to plate this now that I’ve seen how well it can be done, so would you mind? I’ve got a couple of sprigs of rosemary I set aside and I stole some parsley from Karen’s fridge if you want it. I want to learn from a pro about how to make food more appealing to all the senses.”

Armie smirks. “Now you’re making fun of me.”

“No, I’m not, I swear! I’m totally serious. I’ve just never given much thought to appearance on the plate before, but I realized this morning that it’s a legitimate thing. So, I want to learn from someone who gets it. No cap, man. I mean it.”

Armie seems to realize Tim is serious. “Okay, but to be honest, _this_ is comfort food, and it most definitely doesn’t need fancy plating. The best way to present a meal like this is to put as much on the plate as you can fit and then devour it.” 

Tim rolls his eyes. “Okay, now you’re making fun of _me._ ”

“No, it’s the absolute truth. Tell you what, chop a little parsley and stem some rosemary. We’ll each fill our plate, then we can sprinkle some of the fresh herbs over the top. You good with that?”

Tim laughs as he turns to prepare the herbs. “Yeah, I’m good with that.”

When they’re seated at the table, it’s Armie who raises his glass first. “First of all, thank you for cooking for me. This looks amazing and I can’t wait to get into it. And second, I know the whole thing with our grandfathers is weird, and we still have a bunch of stuff to talk about, but I’ve got to be honest and say that I’m actually really grateful for their ‘interference.’ If it hadn’t been for them, we never would have met...for the second time, I guess...and I can’t even imagine that at this point. So, I’d like to propose a toast to them. To André and Nathaniel.”

Tim smiles as he raises his glass. “Agreed. To our grandfathers.”

They each take a sip of their wine, and he watches nervously as Armie takes his first bite of lamb. The blissful look on his face as he chews has Tim immediately wondering if Armie’s orgasm face looks anything like this. His cock twitches at the thought. _Fuck._

Armie shakes his head, a look of amazement now taking over. “Oh my god, Tim, this meat is literally melting in my mouth, and the flavor is...fuck...it’s absolute perfection.” He takes another bite before he adds, “If I tell you that this is, without a doubt, the best lamb I’ve ever had in my life, would you believe me?

Tim is over the moon, and he smiles happily, sending up a prayer of thanks to his mother for teaching him how to fix this dish. “Well, that depends. How many lamb meals have you had?”

“Trust me...plenty.”

An even wider grin now spreads over his face. “Well, in that case, if you _are_ telling the truth, then I’m flattered. Thank you.”

“Dude, I’m totally telling the truth. And after tasting this, I’m convinced you were pulling my leg about your ability to fix breakfast this morning.”

“I honestly wasn’t. I usually eat a light breakfast, and if I want something more substantial, Karen’s always happy to feed me, so my breakfast cooking skills are seriously very limited.” 

They keep the conversation casual as they eat, and Tim is pleased to see Armie help himself to seconds. When they are finished, they work together to clean up the kitchen, and Tim starts some coffee.

“There’s apple pie, baked fresh this morning, for dessert later.”

“Oh, man, I _love_ apple pie.”

“Great. Then you’ll be glad to know that I didn't bake this one. It was made by one of Karen’s good friends who owns the best bakery in Bar Harbor.” He sticks the pie in the oven on a low temp to slowly warm it up, and when he turns back to Armie, he’s grinning. “And now we come to the _truly_ important question of the night...will your pie be served with a scoop of ice cream or a wedge of cheddar cheese? And just to be clear, there is definitely a _right_ answer here.”

Tim looks on in amusement as Armie, looking uncomfortable, carefully considers the question. He deliberately cultivates a blank look as he crosses his arms and shrugs, not wanting to offer any help.

Armie hesitates for only a moment. “Okay, well, I’ve got to go for honesty here. I’ve eaten it both ways, and I understand it’s a controversial subject, but...I’m afraid I’m a ‘cold ice cream on warm pie’ kinda guy.” 

Tim laughs and high-five’s Armie. “Thank God for that! We could have been in big trouble otherwise. Honestly, how can people eat _cheese_ with pie? I just don’t get it. Anyway, I’m very glad to know that I don’t have to shun you for the rest of your visit here.”

It’s Armie’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, me too. It might have been kinda awkward.” 

“Definitely.”

“I’m not sure I believe it, but someone told me once that there is actually a cheddar cheese ice cream out there that’s meant to go on apple pie.”

“Seriously? Ew, that’s disgusting.” 

Armie laughs. “Yeah, I agree. Apple pie can only be topped with a heaping scoop of vanilla.”

Tim’s face falls. “Oh shit, I bought strawberry.”

The look of surprise and embarrassment on Armie’s face has Tim totally cracking up before he can carry the charade any further. “Relax, dude, I’m kidding. Yuck, I think that would be worse than cheddar cheese.” He laughs again. “Man, you should have seen your face.” 

Armie smirks, taking the joke in good humor. “Yeah, you’re a real funny guy. You know, there are some things you just don’t joke about, and a man’s dessert is one of them.”

Tim holds up his hands in acquiescence. “You’re absolutely right...sorry. But you have to admit, it was funny.” He turns to grab the whiskey glasses out of the cupboard. “So while we let our meal settle, how about we have a ‘wee dram’ of that amazing scotch you brought?”

“Sounds perfect.”

They head into the living room, and Armie sets his drink down on the end table before he walks over to study the painting above the fireplace. “This is clearly another one of your grandmother’s. Her work is incredible. This isn’t the lighthouse from the letter, is it?”

Tim sets his glass down next to Armie’s and moves to stand beside him. “No. This is Bass Harbor Lighthouse, on the southwest side of the island, on the very southern tip. It’s a beautiful spot, especially at sunrise and sunset. I can take you sometime if you’d like.”

Armie turns and smiles at him. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

They both turn back to the painting, but their proximity is causing the air between them to charge, and Tim’s body begins thrumming in anticipation. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Armie take a deep breath, and he can't resist the urge to lean in, letting his weight rest against the solid body beside him.

At the contact, Armie releases a stuttered exhale. He turns towards Tim, laying a hand on his shoulder, encouraging him to turn as well. Finally facing each other, there’s no mistaking the look of longing and desire Tim sees in the eyes that are locked on his. And he has no doubt that Armie is seeing the identical emotions mirrored back at him.

Slowly, gently, Armie moves his hand up to caress Tim’s face, and he melts into the touch, eyes drifting closed as his breath catches. Fingers tenderly stroke across his cheek as he feels a thumb graze over his lips. He pulls it into his mouth to gently suck and bite it. 

“Fuck…” Tim barely hears it, but he feels Armie’s slight shiver. Reclaiming his thumb, he moves his hand to encircle Tim’s neck, tugging him closer with a whispered, "Can I kiss you?"

Tim blinks his eyes open, feeling a bit foggy, but he’s totally focused on the beautiful face before him, and he manages a breathy, "Yes, please," as he grabs a fistful of Armie's shirt, reeling him in. When their lips at last come together, the intense and unexpected sensations completely overwhelm him. It’s as though he’s come home to a place he’s never been, but one where he knows with absolute certainty he was always meant to be. A place of comfort, safety, and wild exhilaration, and he happily offers up every ounce of himself, heart and soul, to this man. 

When they finally pull back, Tim is happy to note that Armie seems every bit as affected and off-balance as he feels. “Wow.” Armie silently mouths the word as his eyes roam everywhere on Tim’s face. “That was…” 

Tim can’t stop the huge grin that spreads across his face as he nods. “Yeah. It was. Definitely.” Having had only a frustratingly brief taste of Armie’s delicious mouth, he quickly dives back in. As he deepens the kiss, he hears a soft moan, but he has no idea from which of them it comes. Armie tightens his grip as the two of them perform an intricate and sensual pas de deux that feels so easy and natural, it’s as if they’d performed it together a hundred times before. 

Eventually, Tim has to catch his breath, so he takes that opportunity to grab Armie’s hand, guiding them to the couch. Armie sinks down onto it, tugging Tim down beside him with a laugh.

Tim laughs too, feeling lighter than air, but at the same time, never more grounded. He brings his hands up to frame Armie’s face, and as their lips meet again, he’s aware of little details he’d been too overwhelmed to notice the first time. The lingering taste of scotch on both their tongues, the way Armie’s dense stubble tickles and scratches his face, the strong hands that slowly tangle in and tug gently on his hair. _Fuck._ The moan is definitely his this time. 

Overcome with an urgent need to erase every bit of distance between them, Tim throws a leg across Armie and climbs into his lap. He comfortably straddles him, kneeling on the sofa as he settles his ass down on Armie’s thighs. “Is this okay?” he asks softly as his hands play over Armie’s face and through his hair.

Armie responds by wrapping his hands around Tim’s waist, pulling him in even closer. “Definitely.” He smiles. “It seems we’re a perfect fit.” 

With their bodies in more direct contact now, their kisses become more heated, and Tim can’t resist thrusting his hips forward, desperate to feel Armie’s cock against his own. 

Sure that they are on the same page, he breaks the kiss and asks softly, “Do you...want to move this to the bedroom?” The sudden change in Armie’s demeanor causes his heart to sink. “I mean, it’s fine if you don’t. Sorry, I...” He starts to climb off Armie’s lap, but Armie’s hands grab his waist firmly, keeping him from moving away.

“Hey. Hey, no...stay, please. I want you right here. This is exactly where you belong.” Tim, seeing the sincerity in Armie’s eyes, settles back down, and Armie moves his hands to frame Tim’s face. He leans up to deliver a soft and tender kiss to Tim’s lips. “You have no idea how _much_ I want to take this to the bedroom right now. But even more than that, I feel like I want to savor every moment of this new experience with you. It feels far too special to rush, and I don’t want it all to blur together. These kisses are the sweetest, most intoxicating kisses I’ve ever shared with anyone, and when I think back on tonight, I want that to be what I remember the most.” He shakes his head and chuckles. “Does that make any sense at all?”

Tim relaxes again, exhaling a relieved sigh as he smiles. “Yeah, it totally does. I’m afraid that was my dick talking...sorry. But my brain absolutely agrees with you.”

Armie laughs. “Good. I mean, I’m glad your dick is trying to get involved, because mine most definitely is, but maybe if we can just get our dicks in hand…”

Tim buries his head against Armie’s chest, dissolving into laughter while Armie turns several shades of red. “Jesus, did you really just say that?” 

“Fuck, that’s…” Armie shakes his head in embarrassment. “Fuck. You know that’s not what I meant.

Tim’s still laughing. “I know no such thing. And I’m all for that idea. Your dick in my hand and mine in yours?” 

“Tim…”

“Relax, I’m kidding...again! But you set me up perfectly, and I couldn’t resist. He leans in and kisses Armie playfully. “And I know it seems like I really enjoy laughing at your expense, and maybe I do, a little, but the truth is, I want to savor all of this too.” 

“Good. I’m glad. And, call me old fashioned, but we haven’t even been on a proper date yet. We should at least have an official first date before we fall into bed together, don’t you think?”

“So are you telling me that tonight _isn’t_ a date? ‘Cause there’s been an awful lot of kissing for a non-date.”

Armie chuckles. “Well, I admit, it certainly feels like one, and the stellar kissing…” he drops another quick kiss to Tim’s lips, “is certainly very much a date sort of activity, but technically, no, because you invited me to dinner as a thank you for helping out this morning.”

Tim pokes him in the shoulder. “You’re ridiculous. Do you mean to tell me that after we came _so_ close to kissing this morning...not once, but twice...that Rachel’s now decided she has a vested interest in my love life, and this evening has been about as perfect as it gets, that this _still_ doesn’t count as a date?” 

The laugh Armie let’s out is relaxed and happy. “Nope. Sorry. Close, but not quite. And you’ll have to tell me later what you’re talking about with Rachel, but first…” He takes Tim’s hands in his, as he asks in all earnestness, “Can I take you out for dinner tomorrow night, Mr. Chalamet?” 

Tim grins at him. “Does going out for dinner qualify as a proper date, Mr. Hammer?”

“It does, indeed.”

“Good. I would love to have dinner with you tomorrow night. The only caveat is that I need to check with Rachel to see if she can hang here for a couple of hours while we’re gone.”

Armie nods and starts to respond, but Tim holds a finger to Armie’s lips, silencing him. “Before you say anything else, I want you to know that I absolutely agree that whatever this is between us definitely feels like something special, and I don’t want to rush anything either. I think we’ll both know when the time is right to take things further...whether that’s tomorrow or later down the road. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. But knowing how hard it was to turn down your offer tonight, I make no promises about being able to do that again tomorrow. So maybe now might be a good time for a quick pre-sex convo?” 

Tim nods enthusiastically. “Excellent idea.” That intensely erotic dream suddenly pops into his head, prompting him to lean forward so that he’s less than an inch from Armie’s face as he whispers, “Though I have a feeling that we’re going to be…” He slowly licks from top to bottom across Armie’s lips. “... _very_...” He brings their lips together in a brief passionate kiss before he pulls back, grinning. “...compatible. So, shall I start?” 

Armie, looking completely undone, can only nod, and Tim can’t help but laugh. “Okay. First of all, I’m clean. I was last tested about two months ago, I think. I’ve been with one guy maybe three times since then...we always use condoms. And, as I’m sure you’ve suspected, I prefer to bottom, but I can be vers too. And sex is certainly about more than penetration if anal’s not your thing. Rimming’s a definite turn on for me...both giving and receiving, but again, it’s not a deal breaker.” He grins at Armie. “Assuming any kink negotiation can come later, does that pretty much cover the basics?”

Armie shakes his head and laughs. “Yeah, I’d say that pretty much hits the highlights. There’s something you said that I want to come back to, but first I’ll take my turn. I’m also clean. I had my routine test just a couple of weeks ago actually, and I haven’t been with anyone since then. And, as I’m sure _you’ve_ suspected, I definitely enjoy anal, I prefer to top, and I also get off on rimming, both giving and receiving. So yeah...” It’s Armie’s turn to lean in, hand wrapping around Tim’s neck, pulling him close. “...all in all…” He latches onto Tim’s lower lip, sucking and biting, plunging his tongue briefly into Tim’s mouth before abruptly pulling back, smirking. “...I’d say we’ll be extremely compatible in bed.”

Tim, now the one suddenly off-balance, runs his hands up and down Armie’s arms. “Fuck. Yeah...okay. Good.” He wants to get this next part out of the way. “And...I’m guessing maybe the thing you wanted to come back to is Kyle?”

The teasing look and amusement suddenly drop from Armie’s face. “So he has a name. Is it...serious?” 

Tim rushes to reassure him. “No, definitely not. It’s always been casual. More of a ‘friends with benefits’ kind of thing. We met about a year ago, I think. He comes up here on business a couple of times a month, and he lets me know when he’s coming. We meet for dinner or drinks...hookup. He never stays. He’s a nice guy, but honestly, it’s more about the opportunity to have sex with someone you trust. There aren’t that many single gay guys in this town, and with my business, I feel like I need to be somewhat discrete.”

“Yeah, I get that. So, will you continue to see him?”

He leans in to offer a reassuring kiss. “Not if things go the way I’m hoping they will between us. So, what about you? Anyone I need to know about?”

Armie answers as he runs his hands up and down Tim’s back. “No. I had a relationship that was starting to get pretty serious earlier this year.” He pauses, and Tim sees him working through something before he grins. “And now that I think about it, I realize that it was actually Nathaniel who caused me to rethink the whole thing.”

“Really? What happened?”

“I’d been toying with the idea of asking Jason to move in with me about the time that Nathaniel came to Boston for a visit. I wanted the two of them to meet, so I invited Jason to join us for dinner one night. They seemed to get along fine, but I could sense that Nathaniel wasn’t exactly crazy about him.

“Once we were alone again, I asked Grandpa what he thought of Jason, and he responded by asking me what _I_ thought of him. He talked about the joy of finding that one person that completes you and makes you happier than you’ve ever been in your life. He said that if Jason was that person for me, then he would be thrilled for me. But he also cautioned me about settling for anything less than that.

“It’s funny, but as I think about it now, he and André would have already put their scheme in motion to bring us together. He probably wouldn’t have liked anyone I was with. But as it turns out, he was right. I realized I _was_ settling, and I broke it off not long after that.” 

He leans in and kisses Tim. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I think we’ve had enough serious conversation for the night, and I’m definitely ready for a big slice of that pie _with vanilla ice cream_ that you promised.” 

Tim kisses Armie in return, smiling as he disentangles himself and stands. “If you insist. And if we’re going to manage to keep the rest of this evening ‘PG,’ then your lap is probably not the best place for me anyway, so yeah, time for dessert I think.” 

“Mmm...and coffee.”

Tim laughs. “Yes...and coffee.”

Over dessert, they discuss restaurant choices for their date, and Tim is pleased that Armie had already done some research, suggesting the Terrace Grille at the Bar Harbor Inn, which would definitely have been Tim’s first choice. The food is excellent, and it's got a nice romantic vibe. Their outdoor seating area has the best view of Frenchman Bay in town, and the tables are far enough apart that it feels very intimate and private.

“Perfect. And it’s an easy walk from here.” 

A half hour later, after several more minutes of delicious kisses at the door, they finally say goodnight. And though his cock is definitely wishing they had taken things further tonight, his brain is glad they didn't, and they still have that experience to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what's the consensus...ice cream or cheddar cheese? 😊


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last...dinner and 'dessert.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge apologies for the long delay in getting this chapter posted. For many and various reasons, my muse temporarily abandoned me, but I think I've managed to lure her back. Hopefully the length and content of this chapter will make up for the delay. Updates from here on will not be on a regular schedule, but I'll post as often as I can.
> 
> I thank all of you dear readers for hanging in there, and my thanks, as always, to KendylGirl for her sharp eye and always spot-on suggestions.

First thing the next morning, he checks with Rachel to see if she can cover for him that evening, and she quickly agrees. “Are you kidding? Of course! Anything I can do to get you two idiots together, I’m there.”

Tim chuckles. “Thanks, I think.”

She grins. “But it’s gonna cost you. You have to tell me how the kissing was. And if you say you still don’t know, I’m seriously disowning you.”

“Rachel…”

“What? Come on. I just wanna know if I’m right.”

Tim can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. “It was...nice.”

It feels like she’s been rolling her eyes at him a lot lately. “Nice? Dang, T., no wonder your love life sucks. You totally deserve to be alone.”

“You can be such a brat. Fine. It was more than nice, okay? _Definitely_ more than nice.” He thinks for a minute. “I guess it’s a total cliché, but it really was like fireworks.” He pauses again. “Or maybe more like the last couple of minutes of a fireworks show when they send everything up at once, and there are bright and colorful explosions everywhere, and you feel all of the booms deep down inside you.” He smiles as he remembers. “Yeah. That’s what it was like.”

She throws her arms around him. “I knew it! God, you two totally belong together. He’s the one for you, Tim, I just know it.” 

“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We haven’t even been on a real date yet.”

“Yeah, I know, but some things are just obvious and meant to be.” A look crosses her face, and she jumps up, clapping her hands together, practically screaming at him. “Oh! I just had the _best_ idea! When you guys get married, I’m going to get whatever certification I need so that I can officiate at your wedding! Can I please?” 

She is so sincere and excited, he has to play along. 

“Sure. Why not? When Armie and I get married, we’d love to have you perform the ceremony.” 

She throws her arms around him one more time. “Thank you. I’ll do some research to see what I have to do.”

Tim laughs as he walks away. “Well, I think it’s fair to say that you have _lots_ of time for that research.” 

****

*****

Armie arrives at Tim’s door right on time that evening, looking like a fucking runway model in a black cashmere turtleneck sweater and form-fitting black jeans that perfectly accentuate all of his considerable ‘assets.’ Tim somehow manages to stifle the urge to blow off dinner and invite Armie to bed right then and there. “Wow, you look…” He leaves the sentence hanging because, honestly, there are so many ways to go with it, but it’s clear Armie gets his meaning when he offers an embarrassed smile.

“Thanks. And can I just add ‘ditto’ on the ‘Wow, you look…’ comment?”

He may not actually drag him off to his bed, but he’s at least going to get his hands on him before they go. “Come in for a sec?” 

It seems the feeling is mutual, because no sooner does the door click shut behind Armie, than they are on each other. And, fuck, how can kissing Armie tonight feel even more perfect and natural than it did last night? They are both lost for several minutes, before Tim manages to pry himself away. 

“I hate to be the voice of reason here, but I guess it’s my turn. Our reservation is in less than 45 minutes, and we wanted to allow time to stop in the park on our way there.”

Armie, looking as addled as Tim feels, takes a breath and steps back as well. “Yeah...right. You’re right.” He runs his hand through his hair distractedly as he nods. “We should go.”

They wave at Rachel, who’s seated on the couch in the sitting room with her laptop open in front of her, as they head out. “Thanks again for being here, Rachel. We shouldn’t be more than three hours.”

She smiles warmly at them. “Take your time and have fun, guys. Oh...and, Tim, I just looked into that ‘thing’ we were talking about this morning? It’s super easy, so we’re good to go.” She gives him a big smile and a thumbs up. It’s his turn to roll his eyes at her as he chuckles, giving her a thumbs up in return.

When they get outside, he feels Armie’s eyes on him. “What was she talking about?”

He smiles and shakes his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Thankfully, Armie lets it go. 

The restaurant is just beyond Agamont Park, and they’d decided it would be fun to stop in the park on the way there to see if they could figure out the likely spot where André and Nathaniel may have met, and maybe which bench they had sat on for their first conversation.

It’s just a short walk, and they enter the park from the west side, stopping to look around. “You said that Nathaniel was walking up the hill, and André was walking toward the pier, right?”

“Yeah. Grandpa said that he was making his way back up to the sidewalk, but it looks like there are several sidewalks running through this area.” 

Tim looks out toward the bay as he thinks. “I suppose it’s possible that André could have been coming from the east, but it makes much more sense that he would have come from the house. The same way we did this evening. Nathaniel could have been anywhere along this hill, but if André came from the west and was walking toward the pier, their interaction must have been somewhere in the area where we’re standing now. And there are a lot of benches around here.”

They wander away from each other briefly, both looking for clues. Armie heads in the direction of the pier, pausing at the spot where three sidewalks intersect in a large brick circular area, while Tim focuses on the benches. There are about a dozen in this section of the park, all on different walkways, separated by shrubs, flower beds, and grassy areas.

He has a gut feeling about which bench it might have been, but he decides to wander by some of the others first. A few of them are occupied, so he focuses on those that aren’t. About half have dedication plaques, and he stops to read a couple as he passes by. 

_Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting, and autumn a mosaic of them all.” Stanley Horowitz_

_In Honor of Glenn Tucker, Husband, Father, Papa, lover of this island, “I have a need for water near.” ~Edna St.Vincent Millay_

He circles back around to where he started, and he makes his way over to the bench that is closest to where Armie is standing, happy to see it’s unoccupied. It offers a great view of the bay, looking toward one of the Porcupine islands, though he can never remember which one it is.

He notices that the bench has a plaque, so he steps forward to read it. His heart nearly beats out of his chest. He turns to holler at Armie, but sees him approaching, just a few feet away now. He tries to keep his voice steady as he nods at the plaque. “Take a look at this.”

He watches Armie’s face as he reads: _Our souls met long before our eyes did...For you, in silence._ He looks puzzled. “Why is that familiar? Wait...is that…?”

Tim nods. “Yeah, it was in the very first letter I read from that initial bunch you gave me. It’s the inscription from the book that Nathaniel gave to André.”

“Right! It’s been a while since I’ve read those letters. Wow. So, this is the bench.” He turns to study the view before he sits, and Tim drops down beside him.

They’re both quiet for a moment before Tim speaks. “I have no idea why, but I somehow _knew_ this is where they sat. How weird is that? I’ve sat here many times too, and I’m sure I’ve even read that plaque before.” He shakes his head. It’s all a little overwhelming.

“I’m curious which of our grandfathers had the plaque installed. I have a feeling it was mine, but I’ll do some digging tomorrow and see what I can find out about it. I’m sure there are records of this stuff, and Julia ought to be able to point me in the right direction.” Armie looks at his watch. “It’s almost seven. We should probably get going.”

Tim smiles as he stands. “Right. We don’t want to be late for our first official date.”

They both turn to take a picture of the plaque before continuing on to the restaurant. 

There’s a definite chill in the air this evening, but the restaurant has a few fire pits lit on the patio, and they are seated near one. This place is usually packed, but the peak tourist season is past now and because there are only a handful of tables occupied, no one is seated at all close to them, giving them plenty of privacy.

Armie rubs his hands together as he looks over the menu. “This all looks so good. I’ve been craving some fresh seafood. What do you recommend?”

“Honestly, I think everything here is amazing, but I can never resist the Frenchman Bay Bouillabaisse. It’s got a little bit of everything, including Maine mahogany clams, and Acadia mussels that are farmed right here on the island.”

“Oh man, that sounds perfect. Sold.” Armie selects a bottle of sauvignon blanc from the wine list to complement their seafood, and they decide on the Maine crab cake appetizer. When the wine arrives, Armie raises his glass in a toast. 

“To two souls who met long before their eyes did.” He gazes intently at Tim. “And, to be clear, I’m not talking about our grandfathers.”

Tim’s breath hitches as they clink glasses. “Right. To ‘us.’”

As always, the food is amazing, and while they eat, Tim brings up the subject of their grandfathers. “Obviously, the hardest thing for me in all of this is accepting that Grandpa cheated on Grandma. I never would have expected that in a million years, but I do get it, I guess. And everything points to the fact that the love between my grandparents remained strong to the end, so once I was able to take my grandmother out of the equation, I could look at André and Nathaniel’s relationship a little more objectively. What I read in André’s letters and what Nathaniel shared with you honestly just makes me really happy for them. It was such a unique and special relationship. That kind of soul-deep love is incredibly rare, I think.”

“Yeah, I think so too. And I totally get where you’re coming from regarding your grandparents, but for what it’s worth, based on André’s letters alone, it’s crystal clear to me that his love for Rosie never waivered.”

“Thank you for that. Anyway, I’m sure you’ve been really anxious to read Nathaniel’s letters, and I appreciate the time you’ve given me, but I’ve been getting more curious and excited to get a look at things from Nathaniel’s point of view too, so are you up for seeing if we see if we can find his letters tomorrow? You said you think they’re in Grandpa’s shop?”

Armie studies him a moment before answering. “Yeah, I wrote all the details down, but they’re supposedly under the floorboards, under a mat in front of a workbench?”

Tim nods as he recalls that his grandfather had put one of those cushiony rubber mats on the floor in front of the workbench on the east wall. It was where he always stood for long periods of time, doing detail work on his pieces. He’d told Tim that it had really helped with his aches and pains. 

“The east wall bench, maybe?”

“Honestly, I don’t remember, but I have the notes with me. Do you think they’re still there?”

“If that’s where he hid them, then yeah, I would think they’re still there. That shop is pretty much the way he left it, other than a couple of specialized hand tools that I gave to someone. He was a friend of Grandpas, and had helped him with a couple of his larger projects. He said he wanted something to remember him by.” Tim dips a chunk of crostini into the bouillabaisse broth and stuffs it in his mouth. “And I’ve let the carpenters who’ve been working on the house use some of the tools out there, but I made clear that nothing was to be touched that they didn’t need, and that it should all be left exactly the way they found it. They’re good guys, and I trust them.”

“Okay. So, yeah, absolutely. What time is good for you tomorrow?”

“Late afternoon is check in, so that’s always bad, so maybe late morning if that works for you? Or we could do it tomorrow evening.”

“Let’s plan on late morning.” Armie’s eyes lock on Tim’s and he reaches out, resting a hand on Tim’s leg. “I have...one or two other ideas for things we might do tomorrow evening.”

Tim feels heat rising up his cheeks. “Oh yeah?”

Armie’s hand inches up Tim’s leg, squeezing slightly before he lets go, reaching for his glass of wine. “Mmm. Since I believe we have after-dinner plans at your place tonight, I thought that tomorrow…” He leans forward now, whispering into Tim’s ear, so that he feels the words as well as hears them. “...you might like to check out that new bed you bought for your new suite? I mean, you shouldn’t just take my word for it that it’s super comfortable. You should try it yourself. And you might also want to check out that whirlpool tub. You know...in case it has any issues.”

Tim laughs. “You think?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, I think that’s an excellent idea”

Armie grins. “Good. So tomorrow morning we’ll look for the letters. Now how about a little dessert before...‘dessert’?” 

They split a crème brûlée which nicely tops off a perfect meal.

It’s a beautiful, clear night, and the moon easily illuminates their walk back through the park. They sit for a moment as they pass by their bench. Tim, feeling slightly buzzed from the wine and happier than he can remember being in a very long time, casually reaches for Armie’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Armie smiles and squeezes his hand in return.

Tim’s cock twitches as he thinks about having Armie in his bed tonight, but he knows that his racing heart and the nervous anticipation he’s feeling are about so much more than the sex. What he feels for Armie is unlike anything he’s ever felt before, and if he lets his mind really go there, he’s going to get completely overwhelmed. So he takes a deep breath, focusing on the moored fishing boats bobbing in the water, letting the peace of the scene calm him. 

He’s so lost in his thoughts, he’s startled when Armie speaks. “There’s something I’ve been thinking a lot about. This whole idea of souls meeting and recognizing each other is so out there and definitely a new concept for me. If you’d asked me a month ago if I believed in soulmates or destiny, or whatever, I would have said no way. But fuck, all of these ‘coincidences’ are pretty hard to ignore, you know? And I’m talking about us as much as our grandfathers.” 

Tim nods. “Yeah, I’m right there with you. Honestly, when you walked through the door that first day, it was the strangest feeling. It wasn’t just that I felt we had met before, but it was more of an ‘ah...there he is’ feeling. I’ve never felt anything close to that before.”

“Same for me. Even though I’d seen that picture of us as kids, it caught me totally by surprise. We know that Nathaniel and André plotted our meeting, but I can’t help but wonder if they were just hoping we might like each other, or if there was more to it than that.” He shakes his head. “I’m not really sure how to explain what I’m getting at.” 

Tim knows exactly what he’s saying. “You mean, did they somehow _know_ that we would? Like...they had a glimpse of the future or something?”

Armie gets excited. “Yes, exactly! I know it’s crazy, and I don’t want to get distracted by all that tonight, but do you think the two of them are...I don’t know...guiding us in some way maybe?”

It’s Tim’s turn to shake his head. “At this point, I’m not ruling anything out.” He grins at Armie. “But if they are possibly watching us right now, they’re probably wondering why we’re sitting here talking when we could be doing...other things.” 

The laugh Armie lets out makes Tim’s heart soar. Armie raised their still joined hands to his lips to kiss the back of Tim’s hand. “And you know what? They’d be absolutely fucking right. Let’s go.” 

****

*****

Rachel is in the sitting room, watching TV when they get back. She looks up and smiles as they walk in. “Hey, did you guys have a nice dinner?”

Armie enthusiastically responds. “We did. It was great. Amazing food and excellent company.”

Rachel grins, slyly winking at Tim. “Glad to hear it.” 

She stands and starts to gather up her stuff and Tim smiles warmly at her. “Thanks for hanging here tonight, Rachel, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I had a paper to write anyway.”

“Any issues?”

“Nope. Someone came down looking for a needle and thread to sew a button back on, and the Clarks in the Oak Room asked for boxed lunches for tomorrow. I texted Mom so she knows, and I left a note by your computer so you’ll know to add it to their bill. That’s it.”

“Perfect. Thank you.” Tim reaches to take her laptop from her. “I'll walk you to your car.”

She hangs tightly onto the laptop, giving him a ‘look’ before smiling sweetly at Armie and handing it to him. “Thanks, Tim, but I'm sure Armie wouldn’t mind walking me out, would you?”

Tim and Armie exchange a surprised look, as Armie takes the laptop from her. “No, of course not.” 

“Great. G’night, T. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Rach. Thanks again, and text when you get home, please?”

He can’t see her eyes, but he knows she’s rolling them. “Yes, Dad.”

A few minutes later, Armie walks back in laughing, shaking his head.

“What was that all about?”

He walks over to Tim, wrapping his arms around him. “She just wanted to tell me that she’s glad we’re getting along so well and to let me know…” He pulls Tim close, dropping a kiss to his neck, and Tim can't help but close his eyes, tilting his head to the side to give Armie more room to explore. “...that if I ever hurt you…” Armie moves up to nuzzle his ear before whispering, “... they'll never find my body.”

Tim startles and pulls back. “Wait. Seriously? She said that?”

Armie smiles and nods. “Yep. She did.”

“Jesus, I'm sorry, she was out of line.”

“What? No, Tim, she absolutely wasn't. The bond between you guys is clearly strong, and I have nothing but respect for her looking out for someone she cares about, and I told her that.” He steps forward again, pulling Tim back in. “I also told her that I have no intention of hurting you.” He pauses. “So...I think we’ve officially had our first date.” 

Tim grins. “I think we have. How about a nightcap?”

Armie laughs. “Is that a euphemism for 'Can we have sex now?'”

Tim laughs in return. “Do I need to use euphemisms at this point?”

“Since there's no place I'd rather be right now than in your bed, I'd say you definitely don’t.”

“Good, then let's have a nightcap, and _then_ have sex.”

“Or we could skip the nightcap and go straight to the sex?”

“Why are we still standing here?” Tim grabs Armie’s hand, tugging him toward the door to his apartment.

Once inside, he turns to lock the door and as he turns back, Armie is on him, crowding him back against the door, a look of pure lust in his eyes. Eager hands roughly stroke up Tim’s arms, grabbing onto the back of his neck, tugging him forward and bringing their lips together in a kiss that feels nothing like the kisses from last night. This one is intense and full of desire, and...Jesus...he’s so fucking turned on it’s almost painful. 

He moans as he grabs Armie’s ass, pulling him in tight, thrusting his hips forward, desperate for more contact. And, fuck, if this doesn’t all feel as though it’s exactly what he’s been yearning for his whole life. This moment feels life changing, it feels...but he barely has time to register that before they’re forced to pull back to breathe, both gasping for air. 

They share a brief look of wonder before Armie breaks the spell, running his hands slowly up the front of Tim’s shirt. “Fuck, what this color does to your eyes should be illegal. You’ve had me half hard all night. But…” He leans in and steals a quick kiss. “...as amazing as you look in it, I need it off of you...now.” He starts to unbutton the shirt, but Tim has something else in mind. Shoving Armie back and stepping around him with a purpose, he reaches back to grab Armie’s hand, only to see him standing there looking startled and embarrassed. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I…” 

Tim moves quickly, grabbing Armie’s face and kissing him hard. “Armie, Jesus, do you _seriously_ think I don’t want this?” He latches onto Armie’s hand, guiding it to the clear bulge in his jeans, before yanking him down the hall. “I’m just kinda desperate to get us to the bedroom right now if that’s all right with you.” 

Armie gives a self-deprecating laugh. “Fuck, yeah, of course. Sorry...I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot. Well...not much of one anyway.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Stepping into the bedroom they turn to face each other, serious and focused now...expectation heavy in the air. Until... 

Tim huffs out a breath as he steps back, shaking his head in frustration, immediately noting Armie’s confused and concerned look as he does. “Fuck. I _promise_ I’m absolutely desperate for this.” He steps forward again to give Arime a quick, convincing kiss. “It’s just...I _really_ have to pee.” He moves quickly toward the master bath. “I’m so sorry...I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

Armie’s laugh carries a tone of relief. “No problem. I’ll use the other bathroom and meet you back here in a minute.” 

Tim is struggling with the toggle switch that dims the bedroom light when Armie walks back in. “This switch has been sticking lately, so of course, when I really need it to work, it craps out.” Resigned, he flicks the bedroom light off, making his way in the dark to the bathroom, turning on the light in there and leaving the door ajar just enough so that the light spills softly into the bedroom. “There! Mood lighting, 2.0.”

“I somehow knew you were an excellent problem solver.” 

Tim can’t help but laugh. “When necessary, yeah, but Jesus, why does everything have to be so fucking complicated and awkward when you just want it all to be perfect?”

“Maybe _because_ you want it to be perfect?”

Tim shrugs. “The universe being contrary? Yeah, maybe.” He smiles. “But if our grandfathers really are watching out for us, you’d think they’d sort out shit like that.” He walks over to stand beside the bed, holding out a hand in invitation. “So, how about we try this one more time? Third time’s a charm?” When Armie steps in front of him, Tim reaches up with both hands to cup his face, meeting his gaze and immediately losing himself in the depths of those intense blue eyes. ”Hi.” 

Armie’s smile is warm in return as he reciprocates Tim’s gesture. “Hi.” 

The urgency of moments ago and the brief moment of levity are now replaced with a calm wonder and a sudden desire to slow things down. A need to savor the moment. This kiss is deep and unhurried, and it has Tim tingling all the way down to his toes. 

He feels Armie tremble slightly as they pull back. “Fuck, I haven’t been this nervous since my first time.”

Tim smiles and shakes his head. “Me either, but I promise I don’t bite.” He’s silent for a beat. ”Unless, of course, you _want_ me to. In which case, I definitely do.” 

Armie chuckles. “Haha. Nothing like a good kink joke to break the ice.” 

Tim smiles. “Well, you know, I try.”

“Appreciated, but...” Armie steps back for a moment, pulling his sweater over his head and tossing it on the floor, and Tim’s already hard cock twitches at the sight of Armie’s broad, sculpted chest. “...it’s time to move beyond our nerves.” He runs his hands up the front of Tim’s shirt again, leaning down to nuzzle his nose under the collar of it to kiss his neck. “As I started to say earlier, as much as I love how this shirt brings out the emerald in your eyes, I’m more than ready to move on to what’s underneath.” He reaches for the top button on Tim’s shirt, but hesitates. “May I?”

Tim eagerly nods his assent, reaching down to tug the shirttails out of his pants. Armie takes his time on each button, and though Tim wants to reach out, he stands still, arms at his side, somehow sensing that’s what Armie wants. As he feels the fabric being peeled off his shoulders, he hears a sudden intake of breath, and the look in Armie’s eyes makes his heart skip a beat.

When his shirt has joined Armie’s sweater on the floor, he steps forward, desperate to run his fingers through the course, wiry curls that cover Armie’s chest. He buries his nose there, breathing in the heady mix of soap, sweat, and something that is uniquely Armie. It’s a scent that he knows will haunt him a couple of weeks from now when Armie’s no longer here with him.

As he takes a moment to nestle into the warmth, he feels strong arms wrap around him and soft kisses pressed to the top of his head. It’s almost as if Armie can sense his thoughts. But now is definitely not the time for sadness. He moves his hands from Armie’s chest to cup his face, capturing Armie’s lips in a fierce kiss that he hopes makes his urgency clear. Eventually, Armie is the one to break the kiss...reaching frantically to undo his belt, nodding at Tim to do the same.

In a matter of seconds, their remaining clothes are on the floor, and Tim’s whole body is vibrating in anticipation as he tries to take in every detail of the physical perfection of the man before him. _Fuuuck._ He’s never been this hungry for anyone before, but once again he waits, as Armie's gaze travels over every inch of his body, his eyes full of desire and...something else he can’t quite define.

"Jesus, Tim, you take my breath away. Lie down for me, please?”

Tim moves quickly to comply, settling comfortably on his back, fully exposed and shivering with an all-consuming need to feel Armie's hands and lips on his skin. He can only imagine what he looks like...fully hard and leaking as he gazes up at Armie, pupils no doubt blown, not in any way trying to hide his desperate need for this man. He holds his arms out in invitation, and Armie doesn’t hesitate.

The first sensation of full-body skin-to-skin contact is like a bolt of lightning hitting him. He moans as he thrusts his head back, arching upward, while Armie takes full advantage, burying his face in Tim’s neck, kissing, biting, sucking. There will definitely be marks there tomorrow, and that thought makes him incredibly happy.

When Armie finishes with Tim’s neck, he moves to slowly kiss across his nose, eyes, and forehead. He reaches up, tangling the fingers of his right hand in Tim's hair, stroking and massaging through it as he pulls back to speak.

“Tell me what you want tonight...what you need. I want you to set the pace.”

Armie’s relinquishing of power here is a bit of a surprise, and it briefly pulls him out of the moment, but it speaks volumes about their natural connection and their ability to read each other. He definitely has a preference, and having been given that decision, he knows exactly what he wants.

He smiles as he answers, reaching up to stroke his own fingers through Armie’s hair. “Okay. Well, last night, it was you who voiced the desire to take things slow, so tonight, I’m going to do the same. I want absolutely everything with you, but I don’t want to jump right to the main event and miss all of the sideshows. I want to savor each and every new experience, so I think that tonight I’d like us to suck each other off if that’s okay with you.” 

Armie smiles as he leans in, kissing him soundly. “I shouldn’t be surprised at this point that not only are our souls in sync, but our minds are as well. Yeah...that’s perfect. But you’re going to have to let me take care of you first.”

Tim nods, raising his arms above his head, gladly passing control back to Armie, who wastes no time taking it. In a matter of seconds, Tim is hopelessly lost in pleasurable sensations as Armie proceeds to take him apart...very slowly...bit by bit...keeping him on edge for what feels like an eternity. When he finally comes, it’s like a seismic bomb, exploding deep and causing massive aftershocks. He’s barely aware of Armie kissing and stroking him through it. 

It feels as though an eternity passes before he comes back to his senses and reaches a point where he’s recovered enough to speak. “Fuck, that was...wow.” Armie grins at him before leaning down to playfully suckle a nipple, obviously knowing it’s hyper-sensitive right now, but also clearly not caring in the least, causing Tim’s body to spasm once more in response. “Jesus...fuck!”

Armie chuckles, dropping tender kisses all across Tim’s chest and neck before moving up to find his lips. “Sorry, but I couldn't resist that succulent little nub that just happened to be right at mouth level. I know I took advantage, but I’m hoping you won’t hold it against me.”

Tim shakes his head, smiling happily as he captures Armie’s face in his hands. “Fine. I forgive you. But...” He gives Armie a quick kiss before pushing on his chest, making a move to sit up, but Armie playfully resists. “...it’s _my_ turn to return the favor. _Or_...to take advantage. Fair is fair after all.” 

He shoves harder this time. “Move, dammit. I need you under me...now.” Armie gives a mock salute as he allows Tim to assume the dominant position, flopping onto his back.

Tim’s brain is still a bit fuzzy, but he’s _so_ fucking ready for this. He moves slowly at first, nervous and hesitant, teasing but uncertain, until he feels a sudden shift inside him. It’s as though every cog has suddenly slotted into its perfect place. He lets out a sigh of joyous relief as he instinctively begins to play Armie’s body like an instrument he’s been familiar with all his life. Intuitively knowing what places to focus on and for exactly how long, changing things up as needed. 

And if the noises Armie is making are any indication, the music he’s creating is rapidly turning into a goddamned symphony. He hears Armie’s ragged breathing hitch for just a millisecond before he comes hard down Tim’s throat, and it’s fucking amazing, and everything is just so fucking right with the world.

They lay quietly for several moments before Armie finally speaks. “If this is what it feels like when we suck each other off, I can’t wait to see what it feels like when we take things further.” 

Tim laughs out loud. “Yeah, I’m with you a hundred percent on that.”

Armie seems to hesitate before he speaks again. “So, do you want me to head back to my room now?”

“What? No!” He falters as he realizes that maybe that’s what Armie wants. “I mean...unless you want to. If so, that’s fine.”

Armie laughs. “No, I don’t want to. Not at _all._ I really want to stay if you’re okay with that.”

“Fuck, Armie, I’m more than okay with that.” He takes a breath, determined to get this out. ”Look, whatever this connection between us is, I think we’re well past the point of being coy about our feelings, so let me just say this, at the risk of scaring you off. Not only do I want you to stay tonight, but I’d be perfectly happy if you wanted to stay forever.”

He starts to regret it as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but Armie just smiles, a look of wonder on his face before he leans in, dropping a quick kiss to Tim’s lips.

“Yeah?”

Tim can’t keep the grin off his face as he responds. “Yeah. What can I say? I’m a sucker for 6’ 5” Disney-esque handsome princes who happen to be able to read my fucking mind.” 

Armie laughs. “Well, that’s good, because I happen to be a sucker for green-eyed, curly haired vixens who somehow manage to completely ensnare my heart and soul.” 

“So I guess our grandfathers had it right then, huh?”

“Yeah, I"d say that’s pretty much a given at this point.” Armie shifts lower on the pillows, pulling Tim close. His arms wrap tightly around him, as Tim’s head nestles comfortably into Armie’s shoulder. He feels a kiss land on the top of his head. "Goodnight, Tim."

"Goodnight, Armie. Thanks for dinner and a perfect first date."

He feels Armie's grin. "It was pretty perfect, wasn't it?"

"Mmm. It was." Tim smiles as he closes his eyes, and his thoughts drift once more to this powerful connection between them that feels as though it's always been and always will be. No beginning and no end, like an intangible lovers knot.

He's suddenly filled with an all-consuming need for Armie to know every tiny detail of his life. He wants to tell him about that surprising, sensual dream, and to confess his paralyzing fear of heights, and to share the story of how he got that scar on his ring finger. But not tonight. In fact, there's no hurry at all because he knows they'll have the rest of their lives for that. Sated and relaxed now, he lets unconsciousness claim him.

****

*****

He slowly drifts up from a deep sleep as he feels kisses pressed to his eyes, nose, cheeks. He grins, but doesn’t open his eyes, though he can sense the first light of the new day coming in through the window. “Mmm, nice.”

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

He opens his eyes now, seeing a smiling Armie, squatting down beside the bed, watching him.

“I knew it. I’m definitely living in a fairy tale.”

Armie laughs. “What are you talking about?”

“Well I’ve just been woken by kisses from a handsome prince. Isn’t that what happens in fairy tales?”

“You’re weird.”

“Maybe, but…” He stops and frowns as he takes in Armie’s appearance. “Hey, why are you over here...and dressed? You’re supposed to be...there,” he gestures vaguely to the other side of the bed, “and definitely _not_ dressed.”

Armie leans in, finding his lips this time. “Well, I figured I should probably head back up to my room before people start stirring. I mean, I wouldn’t want to make everyone else in the place jealous when they realize that I’m the lucky bastard who got to share your bed last night.” 

Tim, embarrassed, reaches out and shoves him so that he loses his balance, falling on his butt. “Shut up.”

“Hey!” Armie grins as he picks himself back up. “I’m serious. Well, sort of.” He sobers as he reaches out to cup Tim’s face. “The thing is, this is not only your home but your place of business, and I’m just trying to protect your privacy.” 

“Okay.” Tim is touched that Armie would do that for him. He moves his hand to grasp Armie’s wrist. “I appreciate that, but do you have to go already? What time is it anyway?”

“A little after six. Go back to sleep for a bit, and we’ll talk later to figure out when we want to look for the letters.”

Tim’s eyelids are heavy, and he’s already drifting again. “Mmm...‘kay.” They share one more sweet, soft kiss before Armie stands, winks at him, and heads out of the room. Tim has a huge smile on his face as he falls back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As all writers know, feedback is manna from heaven, so I would be most grateful to hear your thoughts on this chapter. ❤️


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathaniel's letters are found, and there is a surprise for Tim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fear I will be saying this often from here on out, but my sincere apologies for the delay in getting this chapter posted. I have a clear vision of where this story is going, but transferring that from my brain to paper can sometimes be a challenge. I'm so very grateful for all of you continuing to read, and particularly those of you leaving kudos and comments. They really mean the world! ❤️
> 
> KendylGirl, I just want to say thank you for making me a better writer. I hope it's been clear that I've been taking the comments and suggestion you've offered to heart. It's funny, but as I write now, I find myself looking at my words from your head, if that makes any sense. I mean...not _one_ comma issue in this chapter, right? 😂 Seriously, thank you! ❤️
> 
> And to all my readers...a bit of angst ahead, so duck and cover!

He turns the key in the lock and slowly pushes the door open, gesturing for Armie to enter.

The morning sun, filtering softly through the trees outside the windows, casts flickering shadows across the walls lined with tools, the sturdy workbenches, the stacks of assorted raw wood, and various pieces of dusty furniture and equipment that occupy the large, open interior of the building. The familiar smells of the woods, stains, oils, and finishes welcome him and immediately transport him back to his childhood. Though he’s cleared out most of the flammable and hazardous materials, their scents linger, either having soaked into cracks and crevices over the years, or having been spilled on the wooden floor, creating Rorschach-type patterns there. 

He smiles as he glances at one of those stains over by the center bench. It happened the day he had knocked a half-full can of walnut stain off the bench with a piece of wood he was trying to move. He had been distraught, but his grandfather had merely shrugged his shoulders and smiled at him. “Accidents happen, Timmy,” he had said, and they had worked together to clean up as much of the mess as they could. He had always thought that particular stain resembled a two-headed alien climbing out of a spaceship.

For the most part, the shop looks very much as it did when it was actively being used. Though his grandfather had certainly made use of power tools, he had preferred using old-fashioned techniques, employing quality hand tools to create his works of art. Most of those tools are still on display, neatly organized, as was his grandfather’s habit. 

In this gentle light, he can almost see his grandfather here, whistling happily as he skillfully runs a hand planer over the surface of a new piece, or with brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully measures a piece of wood twice before cutting it. Tim’s grateful to have all of those memories, and he allows himself a few more seconds of magic before he reluctantly flicks on the lights, brightly illuminating the space and banishing the ghosts.

Given the workshop's ‘snapshot in time’ feel, combined with the age and character of the building, the place can’t help but cast a spell over anyone seeing it for the first time. He sees the astonishment register on Armie’s face as he takes it all in. “Wow. I’m lost for words. This is incredible.”

Tim looks around, smiling as he nods. “Yeah, it is. Obviously, I’ve been focusing on the house the last few years, but I really need to get a bunch of this stuff, like the raw wood and the larger power tools, to someone who can use them. The contractors were in heaven having access to all of this stuff while we were doing the major remodelling and restoration, but I practically made them sign in blood that they would leave everything exactly the way they found it before I gave them access.”

Armie smiles. “Yeah, I totally get that. I would have been the same way.”

He watches as Armie slowly makes his way around the room, pausing to study the row of chisels hanging above the west workbench and stopping in front of a stack of oak boards, lifting up the end of the top board to examine the one beneath. When he gets to André’s leather apron hanging on its hook as though his grandfather had left it there yesterday, he turns and smiles at Tim. He reaches out, almost reverently running his hand over the front of it before leaning in to breathe in its scent.

When he returns to Tim’s side, he wraps Tim in his arms, and Tim happily sags into him, feeling Armie’s words vibrate as he speaks them. “I knew this place was going to be special, but I had _no_ idea. What a lucky son of a bitch you are to have spent time here as a kid, and to have such wonderful memories of your grandfather and his work. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to think about getting rid of this stuff.” 

Of course Armie gets it. His throat tightens, and he determinedly blinks back the tears beginning to well in his eyes. Grabbing fistfuls of Armie’s shirt, he buries his face in Armie’s chest as he nods, not trusting his voice enough yet to respond. Armie’s arms immediately tighten around him, a soft kiss landing on the top of his head. They stay that way for a moment before Tim pulls back, smiling up at Armie, bringing their lips together in a quick kiss. 

As he steps back, he looks around the room. “When I first moved up here, I considered turning this workshop into my living space, but it just felt wrong. Besides, it’s really not big enough.” He pauses. He hasn’t mentioned this idea to anyone yet, not even Pauline, but acting on his thoughts from last night about wanting to share everything with Armie, he continues. “I’ve actually been giving some thought to creating an architecture and design studio out here. I’ve got all the certifications I need to practice in Maine, and I feel like I’ve learned so much from the work I’ve done on the house. I’ve had a few people ask if I might be interested in other projects, and I’ve realized that I do miss some of the challenges and the creative outlet of doing design work.”

He looks at Armie who appears to be listening intently so he continues.

“Most everything on the walls, and some of the other stuff, could stay to give the place some character and atmosphere, and to provide some inspiration. Clear out the rest, bring in a drafting table, maybe add a couple windows and put in some sky lights, and I’d be good to go.” He smiles, letting the excitement of the idea take over. “Fuck, it gets more appealing the more I think about it.” 

“Dude, you should totally go for it.” Armie is grinning at him now. “Seriously, you’ve clearly got talent, and I think it’s the perfect use for this space. And it lets you stay connected to André here. He can whisper over your shoulder to help with your creativity.”

He’s tried so fucking hard to hold it together this morning, but the reason they are here in the first place, and Armie’s enthusiastic support of his idea get the best of him. He nods again, offering a watery smile, before swiping at his eyes. He starts to turn away in an attempt to get himself under control, but Armie grabs him, pulling him close once more. 

“Fuck, babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stir shit up for you.”

Tim shakes his head vehemently as he returns Armie’s embrace. “No, it’s fine. Honestly, the connection I feel to Grandpa here is part of the reason I’d love to have a studio out here. And the thought of him whispering over my shoulder is a good one...really. I’m just a little raw this morning, I guess.”

“And you have every right to be. You’ve had your whole world turned upside down this past week. I’ve only had to adjust to falling…” He pauses, clears his throat. “...the unexpected connection between us. I’d already had time to sort through my emotions about the whole thing with our grandfathers, and I didn’t have to factor in my grandmother, because she was already gone. You’re getting hit with a lot all at once.” He hears Armie sigh. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, please don’t apologize for having a very human reaction. If you want, we can wait to do this another time, and I’ll also understand if you’d prefer to do this alone.”

Tim grabs Armie’s face, kissing him hard. “I absolutely want you here...I _need_ you here. Besides, whatever our grandfathers were playing at, it includes both of us, so as long as you don’t mind that there are likely to be a few more tears, I’m ready to do this.”

Armie chuckles. “And as long as you don’t mind that it’s likely you won’t be the only emotional one, yeah...I’m ready too.”

Tim laughs. “Good. But before we move on, did you just call me _babe_?”

Armie’s cheeks tinge. “Yeah, sorry, it just slipped out.” 

Tim grins. “Well, feel free to let it slip out again. I liked it...like...a lot.”

Armie smiles. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Now, we came here with a purpose, so let’s get on with it. I’m assuming you brought your notes with you?”

Armie pulls a piece of paper out of his pants pocket, unfolding it and studying it. “He said that the letters are in a metal box under the floorboards, covered by a thick rubber mat in front of the workbench on the east wall.”

Tim nods. “Okay, that’s what I thought when you first mentioned it.” They make their way there, and Tim bends down to roll back the mat. His heart sinks as he sees what appears to be normal floorboards underneath. 

“Fuck!” He hears the frustration and disappointment in Armie's voice and he feels it too. He had been totally convinced they would have no trouble finding the box.

“You’re sure this is where he said it was?” 

Armie studies the paper in his hand again. “Yeah, I wrote down exactly what he said and read it back to him to confirm.”

“Well, maybe your grandfather had it wrong then. I guess we can look at the rest of the floor in here. He’s about to roll the mat back into place when a thought occurs to him. “Wait a minute. My grandfather was a master wood craftsman. He would never just cut a hole in the floor and slap an obvious lid on it.” He crouches down, studying the boards, suddenly smiling. He points to a narrow gap running the length of one board. “Look at that. The fucker completely hid it. Unless you knew it was here, you’d never see it.”

He stands, opening the closest drawer in the workbench, hoping to find something he can use to lift the lid. The only thing in that particular drawer is a long paint can opener with a slight hook at the end. He holds it up to show Armie with a grin. “At least he made the key obvious.” Squatting down again, he easily slots it into a gap, using the hook to pry up one end of the lid. He grabs the lid, but he doesn’t open it all the way yet, looking up at Armie. 

“You ready?” 

Armie nods as he squats down beside Tim.

His hand shakes as he lifts the end he loosened, grabbing hold of the entire piece and pulling it completely off. He smiles as he examines the piece of flooring in his hand, noting that a board on either side extends out beyond the actual lid making it blend seamlessly into the rest of the floor. He chuckles. _Nicely done, Grandpa._

He sets the lid aside and they both stare down into the exposed cavity which contains a shoebox-sized metal container wrapped in heavy duty plastic. They exchange looks before Armie asks, “Do you want to pull it out, or shall I?”

“You do it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah...do it.” 

Armie reaches down and pulls the box out of the hole, setting it on the bench to remove the plastic, while Tim checks to make sure there is nothing else in the hole before dropping the piece of flooring back into place and rolling the mat back out over it. 

With the plastic wrap removed, they both spend several seconds staring at the box. “We should have brought that bottle of scotch with us. Who gives a shit that it’s only 11 a.m.”

Armie chuckles. “I can go get it if you want.”

“Nah. I don’t want to waste the time.” He sits on the floor, with the box in his lap, and Armie settles beside him. Heart pounding out a solid cadence now, he lifts the lid so that they can both see inside. A strong musty aroma assaults his nose as he stares down at what are clearly a large number of envelopes nestled vertically inside, with three envelopes placed horizontally on top of the others. He picks those up first, setting the box aside for the moment.

He’s surprised and happy to see that the top envelope is addressed to him in his grandfather’s neat script. As much as he’s tried to convince himself that he was okay with the fact that Armie heard all of this from his grandfather and he hadn’t, it had still hurt. Maybe this letter will ease some of that pain and hopefully, answer some of his questions. 

He’s also pleased to see that the second envelope is addressed to Pauline. He’s thought a couple of times about Facetiming her and laying all of this out for her, but he knows her well enough to know that she will prefer to hear about it when they can be together. When she can read the letters for herself and they can really talk it through. She’ll be here next month, so it’s not that long to wait. 

But it’s the third envelope that is the biggest surprise. It’s addressed to both Tim and Armie with very specific instructions: _Timmy and Armie, Whatever year you find this box, please wait until the following May 3rd to open this envelope. And do it together please. Love to you both from your grandfathers._

“What the hell?” He feels slightly dizzy, and he closes his eyes for a minute. 

A hand immediately settles on his shoulder. “You okay?” 

He nods. “Yeah.”

Armie lets it go. “So I guess my next question is, do you feel like you want to wait for Pauline to be here before we go any further?” 

At least he’s sure of his answer here. “No. I’ve thought about telling her, but honestly, it will be easier for her not to be at ground zero, if you know what I mean. Besides, this is about you and me. This is all aimed at the two of us, and she’ll understand that.” 

He sets the other two envelopes aside, holding onto the one addressed to him. Age has rendered the seal brittle, and it opens easily. With shaking hands, he pulls out several sheets of paper, flicking them open, staring at the jumble of words for a minute before he begins to read them aloud.

_My dearest Timmy,_

_I am going to assume that I did a professional enough job of concealing the hole in the floor that you would only find this box if you were led to it. Which means that you will have read my letters to Nathaniel, and you will know that this box contains his letters to me._

_It’s hard to know where to begin, but I feel sure that two things are uppermost in your mind. The first would be your grandmother, and the second, a feeling of hurt and disappointment that I didn’t talk to you about my relationship with Nathaniel. Let’s start there._

Tim feels the tears welling in his eyes again, but he takes a breath and continues.

 _I very much wanted to tell you, and I thought of doing so many times. There are a couple of reasons why I didn’t, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. The first reason is a purely selfish one. I was afraid that hearing that I had betrayed my vows to your grandmother would permanently damage my relationship with you. The bond that you and I share has been one of the greatest joys of my life, and it would have devastated me to lose your love and respect._

He’s struggling to get the words out now. 

_Having said that, I know that you are mature and wise beyond your years, and you have such a compassionate and forgiving nature. There are certain aspects of my situation that are black and white - irrefutable facts that are easy to pass judgement on. But in fairness, my relationship with Nathaniel is also loaded with gray. I’ve never doubted your ability to see and interpret the gray, but had I shared all of this with you earlier, you would have been missing information because it was not yet the right time to reveal certain things to you. Things that you are just now beginning to discover and process. I will always regret that we never got to have that conversation. Which brings me to the second, more important, reason why I stayed silent._

_My view of the world as a straightforward and logical place changed forever the moment Nathaniel and I laid eyes on each other that day in the park, and experiences that we have shared since then have convinced me that there is so very much in life that is beyond rational explanation. I have come to believe in a number of ideas that, quite frankly, are ‘out there.’ I’ll come back to this later, but please know that the key reason I let you find out the way you did is because that is how it was meant to be._

_And now, we come to the most difficult part of this letter - your grandmother._

“Fuck.” His hand is shaking as he lets it drop down into his lap, the pages rattling slightly as his hand hits his thigh. It’s hard enough reading his grandfather’s words, but speaking them is proving nearly impossible. 

Armie, who has been silent beside him, reaches out now, placing his hand on Tim’s, squeezing gently. Tim looks up at him and sees complete understanding. 

“Do you want me to read the rest to you?”

Tim smiles as he lets out a sigh of relief. “Yeah, that’d be great...thank you.” 

He hands the sheaf of papers to Armie who takes a minute to find the right place to continue. He looks up again before he does. “You ready?”

Tim takes a breath and nods. Armie reaches his hand out once more, laying it on Tim’s arm briefly before he begins to read.

_The first thing I need you to understand is that I have, forever and always, loved your grandmother with all my heart. We have shared the most wonderful life, and the joy that our years together have brought me cannot be measured. But the fact remains that I betrayed her love, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about the pain my unfaithfulness caused her._

_There were never any secrets between Rosie and me, and my relationship with Nathaniel was no exception. Telling her was the hardest thing I have ever done, but I never considered keeping it from her. She listened, she cried, and because of the person she was, she forgave. If she had asked me to stop seeing him, I absolutely would have, but instead, she encouraged our continued contact, and she even sometimes teased me by referring to him as my ‘bit on the side.’ I very much doubt I could have been as accepting and forgiving in her position, and I will be forever grateful for her unwavering love and her generous spirit. I made sure every day that she never had a reason to doubt the depth of my love for her._

_Though I am convinced that Nathaniel and I are merely fulfilling some sort of cosmic destiny, I will always regret that my dear Rosie was caught in the middle. She was the best woman I have ever known, and I miss her every day._

Tim has been focusing his attention on the floor, quietly weeping as he listens. When Armie’s voice catches, Tim looks up to see tears streaming down Armie’s cheeks, and that’s all it takes for him to lose it. Choking out sobs, he collapses against Armie’s chest, finally, _finally_ , since the start of all of this, allowing himself to find release. He’s only vaguely aware of arms coming around him, pulling him in and holding him tight as he lets go of all of the pent up emotions of the last week as they cry together. He feels Armie shake against him, the dampness of Armie’s tears soaking into his shirt. 

Solid hands stroke up and down his back, until they both calm, and Tim eventually makes an effort to speak. “Fucking hell.” He pulls back, running his hands over his face. “Jesus, I knew this was going to be hard, but I had no idea.”

Armie jabs at his eyes, offering a wry smile. “Yeah, well so much for me saying that I’d had time to deal with all of this. I feel like I’ve just taken a punch to the gut. I knew how hard this would be for you, but fuck, believe me when I say it’s no picnic from this side either.” 

Tim smiles in return. “Yeah, it seems pretty clear that we’re meant to go through this shit together. Do you...want me to take over again?”

“If you think you can get through it, yeah, I think you should. It’s really your letter to read.”

Tim huffs out a breath. “Yeah, okay, let me give it a try. I feel like I just let go of a lot, so I should be good.” He takes the pages back from Armie and picks up where they left off.

_And now, with the difficult subjects addressed, I want to talk to you about my relationship with Nathaniel. I’m not quite sure how to explain what is beyond rational understanding, but when two souls who have been connected for eternity meet again, rationality is irrelevant. The deep love and strong bond that Nathaniel and I share truly transcends time and space. Suffice it to say that I’ve come to understand that the universe is far more complex and convoluted than the human mind can ever begin to comprehend. We can either acknowledge that and open ourselves to the possibilities, or we can choose to stick our heads in the sand. Our experience has convinced me that if we are willing to take a leap of faith, the rewards can be unimaginable._

_And now to you boys. It’s true that Nathaniel and I have very deliberately interfered in your lives, but I hope by now you both realize that we knew what we were doing. Your journey is directly tied to ours. Trust in what you feel and experience, be open to everything, and believe in the impossible! This letter, and Nathaniel’s letters, are the next step in your joint journey, but there is still more to come._

_The letter addressed to both of you is from both of us, and it’s important that you are together to read it. If that can’t be arranged on the exact date, please get together as close to that date as you can, and it should be at the house in Bar Harbor. Everything begins and ends there._

_As you see, I’ve also left a letter for Pauline. Please give her at least an overview before she reads it. I would like for her, at some point, to have the full story. I’m fine with her reading all of the letters, but it’s a lot to wade through. Perhaps you can share the important ones with her and a few random others? I leave that to the two of you to sort out._

_I will also let you decide how much, if anything, you wish to share with the rest of the family. If you want to tell them everything, that’s fine. If you want to tell them nothing or something in between the two extremes, that's up to you. I trust you to do what feels right._

_I’m writing this letter just a couple of weeks after you were here for a visit, but I obviously have no idea how long it will have been since we last saw each other when you are reading this, or if we actually had a chance to say a proper goodbye. This doesn’t really count as a goodbye, but there are a couple of things that seem important to say to you._

_First of all, I want you to know how very proud I am of you. You’ve grown into a remarkable young man who is not only kind, compassionate, and hard-working, but you are also an incredibly talented artist in your own right. Carrying on the family legacy in your own way! You know how very much I love you, and I will always treasure the memories of our times together, particularly those spent in this shop._

_As you move forward, I ask you to keep your mind and heart open to things that you may not understand. Things that may go against all you know of how the world operates. Wonders await, my dear boy, if you believe in the possibility of impossibility!_

_And finally, there are still things that Nathaniel and I have to share with you both. You know there is one more letter for you to read, but I will tell you now, there is at least one more than that. I will ‘speak’ with you again on May 3rd! Until then…_

_Sending you all my love,_

_Grandpa_

Tears have been slowly trickling down his cheeks as he’s been reading. He swipes at them now, setting the letter aside, silent as he tries to sort through his thoughts and emotions. 

He has no idea how much time passes before he feels Armie’s arm come around his shoulder, pulling him close, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. 

They sit quietly for a while, before Tim finds his voice again as a thought occurs to him. “It feels like this is all unfolding exactly the way they intended, but how did they know that when you found me, I would be at this house? I mean, we easily could have sold this place and these letters could have been lost forever. What then? And how did they know that we would hit it off? It’s just all...a lot, you know?”

“I agree, but isn’t that exactly what your grandfather was asking of you? To have faith and to be open to things that there’s no rational explanation for?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He thinks about it. “You’re right...I know you are, but it’s hard to make that leap of faith. I guess I just need to chill the fuck out and let it all unfold.”

Armie chuckles. “You and me both.” He’s quiet for a minute before he continues. “So...considering that we’ve both just been put through the wringer, especially you, I think that the ultra-romantic, sex-filled romp I had in mind for this evening might be better enjoyed if we postpone it for a day or two, what do you think?”

Tim laughs. “Yeah, I think that’s a good plan. Besides, I know you’re anxious to get to Nathaniel’s letters. Take the box back to your room. I can read them when you’re finished.” 

Armie leans in, bringing their lips together. “Actually, I was hoping we could read them together. Take turns reading them out loud? You said it yourself. We’re meant to be taking this journey together and just as André’s letter to you felt fucking personal to me, I know that Nathaniel’s letters will feel personal to you as well. They’re letters written to _your_ grandfather after all.”

“If you’re sure...yeah, I’d love that.”

“I’m very sure. You have work to do this afternoon, and I’m going to see what I can find out about the plaque on the bench in the park. How about we rendezvous at your place for dinner? I’ll pick up some beer, we can order a pizza, and we can spend the evening getting a start on these.” 

“Yeah, that sounds perfect. You get the beer, I’ll take care of the pizza. Topping of choice? Crust preference?”

Armie laughs. “I’m really good with anything, but if I had to choose, I’d go for pepperoni and definitely thin crust.”

Tim grins. “One out of two...not bad. I’m all about plain cheese, but I’m right there with you on the thin crust. I’ll get one half and half.”

As they stand, Armie moves to pick up the box, but Tim reaches out a hand to stop him. “Before we go, I just want to say ‘thank you.’ This morning was supposed to be about you and Nathaniel’s letters, and it ended up being about me and my issues, and this...unexpected gift from my grandfather. I’m sorry my shit took precedence.” 

Armie looks incredulous,shaking his head as he cups Tim’s face. “Tim, no! How could you even say that? I’m _so_ fucking happy that you got this amazing letter from your grandfather. I know how much it hurt you that you had to find out about all of this second hand, and I can only imagine how much this letter helps. Honestly, this morning couldn’t have been more perfect.”

He pulls Tim in for another kiss and they melt into each other again. 

Some time later, as the shop door latches behind them, Tim reaches for Armie’s hand, feeling surprisingly happy and content as they make their way back into the house.


End file.
